Go Get Her, Tiger
by LazyWriterGirl
Summary: Fate says she can get server Emily Fields and author Quinn Fabray to realize that they are meant for each other. Desire thinks he can keep them apart for at least a full year, if not more. Can Emily deal with watching Quinn bring the country's most beautiful, famous women to the restaurant she serves in? Will Quinn realize what Emily is to her? AU. Quimily
1. Divine Beings Can Play Games Too

**A/N: WELCOME TO ANOTHER LazyWriterGirl AU. Quinn Fabray and Emily Fields own my very soul. No, seriously, Quimily (thank you Alex for using that in a review, I like it better than Quinnily) is pretty much all I can write at the moment. It's difficult to concentrate on other things. Woohoo! (or should that be a?) Dedicated to Breyanaxo, because she's awesome. **** Unbeta-ed because I am beta-less. All mistakes are mine (but so are all mini-strokes of genius, aha!... Not that there are many.)**

**Beware of very brief Bieber-bashing and what may end up being story-long Twilight-bashing. I am deeply sorry if you are a fan of either of these pop culture phenomena. **

**Disclaimer: I asked all the elves I could find, but they told me I couldn't have Glee or PLL, and nothing short of a million miracles would change that. Damn you all, elves. I will have my vengeance! Sadly the only things I own are the plot and the minor character of Edmund Fabray.**

* * *

Fate would slap herself if she wasn't somewhat sure that this was all part of one of her big plans. Thing is, she doesn't even know if it is. That's irrelevant though because what's important is that she made a bet with Desire and she fully intends to win. I mean, _you_ think she'll win for sure, don't you? Given the rules and the guidelines that they set down…oh… right, you weren't there. Can't you just play along while Fate gets to set her master plan in motion? No? Well then you suck. Sorry, Asperger's. Wow, don't be so angry about…FINE. Fine. Here's what happened. Are you watching? I'll show you all of today's undertakings in real-time; I TiVo'd it and everything. Real-time narration for the win bitches.

See, there's no better time to be a divine entity than on a Saturday night (don't ask questions. All is being revealed as we speak). Currently, Fate and Desire (she will never understand why they're friends. I certainly don't.) find themselves in New York City and would you look at that, it's time for dinner. What did you say; that sounded like the punch line to a bad joke? Well screw you and what you think. Sorry, Asperger's. Anyway, the restaurant that Fate feels herself being pulled toward is a nicely sized establishment, just the kind of low-key place that would be well-received by the rich and famous. With a cursory glance into the restaurant Fate sees that it seems that reservations would definitely help the pair get in much more quickly. Well, no matter. A lovely young couple walking up to the restaurant is hit with the sudden urge to sample the hotdogs being made by that street vendor over there. Fate feels bad, a little, but she really has the feeling that she should be here, and judging by the size of the woman's earrings they can afford to eat here any other night. Desire just shakes his head at her and holds the door open, allowing Fate to step into the well-lit atmosphere of the place. La Vie, it's called, if the nicely scripted white letters above the entrance are any indication. Life. Nice. "Isn't this lovely?"

"Surprisingly so. Much more high-brow than your previous taste in dining establishments would have ever suggested." Desire can't help but stride into the place behind Fate who is already in the process of being shown to a table, having provided the maitre d' with a pair of names that have miraculously (shh, they've had this reservation for ages, wink wink) appeared on the list.

The man smiles at them and it's a kind one, "Ah, Isabella and Edward, of course. Enjoy your evening." She's pleased to find that any assumptions she held about the popularity of La Vie have been proven correct. From the seat they've been placed in, plenty of famous faces can be seen, each table absorbed in its own little world. Desire scoffs at the look of self-triumph gracing his companion as their server arrives. She's a highly attractive woman and Fate can practically see the lust pouring off of Desire in waves. Sometime later when the woman (Emily, as she introduced herself) returns to take their order, he winks at her and even goes so far as to gently bite his bottom lip as he gazes up at the brunette with a sly grin. For her part Fate kicks him under the table, urging him to just order. He does, but never takes his charming smile off the young lady standing beside their table. The woman – she could be anywhere in her early to mid-twenties by Fate's estimate – smiles kindly at Fate (pointedly ignoring Desire's advances in the meantime) and says that she'll be back. On her way towards the kitchens she stops for a quick word with another server, a young man around her age. Emily nods her head in the direction of their table as the man nods and grins at Fate from where he's standing. She finds herself suddenly interested in the pair of them and commits herself to learning a little more about their lives. Really, most other divine beings detest having close contact with mortals, but not Fate. She thinks that rooting around in the heads of mortals teaches lessons about the kind of lives the mortals are able to create for themselves. It's also the best way to know a person. Not that you need to know anything about her motivations. This is what she finds.

* * *

Emily Fields is not unhappy with her life. Sure, she had been rendered incapable of competing in the 2008 Beijing Olympics due to a stupid injury that ruined her swimming career altogether. This same injury has also forced her to ease up on dancing, her second favourite hobby, but that's not really a huge deal. Yes, her fiancée – ex-fiancée, sorry – had skipped town with a married-forty-something who'd offered wealth and security, a week after the formal announcement of their engagement. (Fate glares at Desire when she comes across this tidbit – bastard couldn't leave well enough alone, could he?). Sadly it was true that Emily had believed that she'd managed to find a job in New York City, only to be swindled out of half of her savings in a clever scam. Fate really screwed her on that deal (she wonders why she did that to the young woman to begin with). She'd also been rejected by the first person to show interest in her after her ex-fiancée in a humiliatingly public manner. Ouch.

While all of that is truly soul-crushing, Emily isn't without hope, something that Fate finds admirable. She's gorgeous, twenty-seven, and completely determined to find happiness in her life. The woman has never been a highly negative person. She just wasn't born that way. So Emily Fields is doing what she always does. Moving on (Fate can't control every single goddamn thing, you know, so she's thankful for go-getters like Emily). Emily's attitude has currently led her to do her best at a job handed to her by her roommate. She is a waitress – correction, server – at one of the most popular low-key restaurants in the city. Considering the number of famous people who pass through the doors on a nightly basis in comparison to the number of similarly-low-key-yet-still-elegant-enough-for-the -rich establishments for which the city was well-known, that's saying something. Emily even knows a few of their regular celebrity customers by name, and from what Fate can see quite a few of them even consider the lovely server to be a friend. Lovely, that's really Fate's favourite word at the moment. La Vie is a lovely establishment with a lovely staff and the loveliest manager any business could ask for, and this obviously makes the lovely Emily proud to work here.

It definitely helps that the manager's god-son, Sam Evans, has been Emily's best friend since they could walk. He works with her almost every night (the restaurant is closed Sundays and she doesn't have to work Mondays due to physical therapy). From her first timid dip into his thoughts, Fate likes the young man. He wears a constant smile and always laughs with his customers, who all seem to love him every bit as much as Emily clearly does. Desire is staring at the two of them and great, now's he's asking Fate if she wants him to set them up. They seem to be very… oh, wait. Yeah no, never mind. Emily's ex-fiancée is a woman, and Emily's not shown interest in _any_ male since… forever.

"No need for that Des, they wouldn't work out." Desire shrugs, swirling the wine in his glass about as he watches Fate watch other people.

"Do you know that for sure? You could be missing an opportunity to restore their faith in Fate," he baits, falling silent as Emily sets their meals down before them. He winks at the girl with his trademark 'you so want this' smirk and barely manages to conceal his shock when she subtly shakes her head at him, directing a blush-inducing grin at Fate. "What was that about?" He whisper-shouts the question, the deep blue of his eyes flaring into a stormy grey-green.

"She isn't interested in men, Casanova," Fate says playfully. Desire's eyes widen comically, lightening up to the point of being baby blue and he nods like a bobble-head; it's so unlike him that Fate can't help but stick her tongue out, the pink tip of it wiggling at him teasingly.

"You know, for an entity that's eons old you still don't know how to act like a mature adult, do you?" He slaps her hand away as she attempts to tweak his nose, clearly enjoying his disappointment.

"I'm sorry, but running around making people fall in lust with each other and yourself like a drunk, tripped-out cupid on steroids doesn't exactly scream 'mature adult'. To anybody." Desire scoffs at her and tips his lips down into a petulant little frown.

"Oh just go back to stalking your mortals. Shame they're not anywhere near perceptive enough to notice that you've been rooting around in their brains for a good half hour." Desire turns to his steak, cutting into the meat with an almost arrogant refinement. Fate shakes her head at him and continues her investigation. She gets like this a lot; certain humans just appeal to her in a way that creates an almost obsessive pattern of behaviour in her. Now where was she? Oh yes, Emily loves her best friend Sam but not _that way _because she's a lesbian. Cool.

On the other hand, Sam Evans loves Emily Fields. Not in a romantic, let's-marry-each-other-and-have-blond-and-tanned-b abies way, but in a platonic, you-are-my-very-best-friend-and-I-care-about-you way. Sam cares for his best friend so much that he actually _prides_ himself on being able to help her with her problems. After Emily had been left by the woman she wanted to marry (for a married real estate agent), he'd been there to pick up the pieces. And now here they are three years later and Emily hasn't seriously dated anybody again. Like, at all. Sam often looks over at his best friend taking a couple's order down or showing them tonight's featured wine and he feels a sadness sweep through him. He's decided that he'll wait until Emily shows an interest in somebody again. Once that happens he'll do everything in his power to get them together (unless of course, the woman doesn't like other women, in which case Emily would be understanding and not push for something to happen).

Yes, Sam knows he isn't the most intelligent young man in New York City. Not by a long-shot. But he also knows that he's good-looking, kind-hearted, and that his best friend (and roommate) means more to him than anything. Emily is a beautiful woman with an equally beautiful soul, or whatever it is that girls think is so important. She's also kind and smart, and willing to look past all of the disappointments life has thrown her way, just so that others will never have to see a frown on her face. He _will_ help Emily find love again. He'll make sure that she finds somebody to love. Fate grins at that thought; she loves that song. The song by Queen, mind you, not that song by Justin whatsit. You know, the kid with the hair and the girly face.

* * *

Emily stops by a table a few feet away from Fate, grabbing her attention, and instantly the divine entity senses a shift in the young woman. Her aura is intense, practically throbbing. Desire sees it too, and the look on his face is positively lecherous when he realizes the reason behind the change. You have a question? Are auras real? Some people don't believe in auras, and that's all very well and good, but any divine being can see it. It's a wave of colour constantly surrounding a person and all people are _assigned _a colour, thus rendering "mood rings" ineffectual. What an aura does is intensify in brightness and hue depending on a person's feelings, though the colour will never completely change. Turning back to the screen, if you would please do so, here Fate notes that Emily's normally calm blue looks positively electric to the two divine beings right now. And why, Fate wonders, is that? Desire clearly sees something she's missing and after a while it becomes obvious that she isn't going to catch this on her own.

With a snort he takes her chin in his elegant fingers and with a subtle push, turns her gaze to the woman at the table a few feet away. The most noticeable thing about her is her face, though from what can be seen of the rest of her she must be a sight when she's stood up. She has a face that Fate would be jealous of (you know, if the divine creatures of the universe ever deigned to be jealous of mere _mortals_). The most striking thing about it (though really it's difficult to choose) has to be her eyes. They're a perfect forest green with flecks of honey and amber dancing within her irises. Now Fate understands what's causing Emily's aura to react so vividly. This blonde's own green aura is pulsating in half-time with the electric blue, though it isn't anywhere near as bright. They share an important connection, or at least they will once Fate figures out what it should be.

"So… what is it that Fate Almighty has in store for our wonderfully attractive server and this astonishingly beautiful woman, oh-ever-so-powerful one? Pleasure?" Desire asks. His roguish smirk is seriously beginning to grate on her nerves and Fate wonders why he doesn't just root around in the server's head himself. After a second's though she decides that perhaps it would be best if he didn't do that. To anybody. Ever.

"Hold on. And stop staring at them that way. You're going to get us kicked out." Fate zeroes in on Emily's thoughts, trying to block out all the other people in the restaurant. She can't do it half as well as before, because now she's looking for feelings not facts. But she isn't one of the most powerful divines for nothing. Slowly it comes to her, bits and pieces but more than enough for her to understand the situation. Emily Fields is infatuated with this woman, one of La Vie's regular patrons. She prefers the seats in Emily's section and is influential enough to be seated there each time she comes to eat, which is often. It's no wonder that Emily, whose type literally seems to be 'pretty girl', has developed feelings for this woman who, as Fate is pleased to find out, is 'out' and proud of her sexuality. "She likes her."

"Who likes who, Fate dear? Oh Sapphic love and the difficulties of pronoun usage."

"Fuck off, dude." Fate sighs, but there's no anger in the cuss word. "Emily. Likes. That woman. The one who's sitting at the table a few feet away from us. She's blonde and has the face of a divine, the hair of an angel and the eyes of a mermaid."

"Mermaid? I was thinking more along the lines of a forest nymph, like that stunning little minx I seduced back in the years of our youth… and really? Well, well, well. Shall I work a little magic?"

"No you shall not, idiot." Fate wants to flick one of her cherry tomatoes at him, but resists the urge. "Firstly, stop referring to your gift as magic, you _know_ Mother and Father detest the word. And secondly, can you _not_? This is something that I should take care of." Fate makes a show of cracking her dainty knuckles, winning a smile from Desire.

"Oh really? Well then I'd really better hop to it. If I don't, those poor girls won't realize they're meant to be until they've married twice each and had or adopted three kids apiece." He savours the flavour coming off the end of a green bean before continuing. "I know how you enjoy creating little melodramas for everybody but truly, the whole 'Fate works in mysterious ways' crap is getting old. You're bad, Fate, a real bad guy."

"Why speak like a child now, Des?" She teases, worrying her bottom lip at the same time. It's true. She derives some personal pleasure from the curveballs she tosses humans in their daily lives, enjoying their ingenuity as they work around an obstacle only to be challenged once more. Only sometimes though. Surely not enough to make her 'a real bad guy'. "And besides, I don't always do that. Just last month I helped those two lovely people from Texas get married, remember?"

Desire guffaws so loudly that several people in their section, including Emily and the blonde woman she's so enamoured with, turn to look in their direction. With an apologetic smile he waves at those he disturbed and leans forward, whispering to Fate conspiratorially. "Yes, I remember. Nice of you. Too bad the poor man was shot to pieces last week!"

Fate leans forward as well, to give off the appearance of an intimate action being undergone. She practically hisses at him when she speaks. "That isn't my fault and you know it. That's on Death, not me." Desire raises his hands in mock surrender and returns to the luxurious meal spread before them.

"Sorry, sorry. Touchy subject. How careless of me." The pair eats in silence for a while, Fate actively ignoring her dining partner for the intriguingly beautiful blonde woman. She does seem to like Emily the way the brunette likes her, yet Fate can't help but do a little research. She had been expecting the woman to be some famous person, and is nevertheless surprised by her findings.

* * *

So everybody knows that J.K. Rowling is the queen of young adult fantasy fiction, undisputedly (if you don't agree you're insane), but Fate knows that while there may never be another series quite like Harry Potter, there will always be writers who deserve attention. It seems, as she's looking through this blonde woman's head, that she's found one such person. Quinn Fabray is twenty-six (with an impending birthday mere months away), the middle child in a family of overachieving wealthy people. She went against her father's wishes to study law and instead turned her hand to writing short fiction (and several half-drafts of novels) while pursuing a career in the publishing industry. To her surprise, one of her fellow interns at one of the city's bigger publishing firms passed one of Quinn's stories up to their supervisor, who in turn insisted that she approach one of the editors. The story was picked up and now here she is five years later, with a hit book series (like that thing that all the fourteen year olds are into, but without the sparkly vampires, fluffy werewolves, boring lead actors, and fame expiration date. Fine, so it's completely different from… that series. Stop talking and pay attention.). She also has a brand new young adult fiction novel well underway to being award-winning. But enough about her success, Fate thinks, time to get to the juicy material.

At twenty-three Quinn moved out of her parents' home and hasn't spoken to any of the family since then, save for her younger brother Edmund who, as far as Fate can tell based on what limited access she has to the boy's thoughts, idolizes Quinn completely. The blonde woman is a lesbian, and has been out since she learned it for herself at the age of sixteen. Unlike Emily, Quinn has never been engaged or even had a relationship that lasted as long as Emily and her ex's (which, for those of you interested, lasted a whopping eight years).

Quinn finds Emily very beautiful but is shy enough not to want to tell the server this, and she also appreciates the rest of Emily's… physical appearance. Once she even fantasized about kissing Emily right there in plain view of all of the restaurant's patrons before dragging the girl to the posh washrooms for a…. ok slow down. Too much detail. Even Fate, nosy bitch though she can be, respects the privacy of sexual fantasy. But this is good. There is Hope (Fate makes a mental note to thank the girl at the next Divine/Human Relations Committee board meeting). Quinn's also got a bit of a natural player in her, Fate notes, and it's something that would make her the perfect target for Desire's gift. She wouldn't need much convincing to live the hedonistic, self-indulgent lifestyle that he's been known to favour. But that shouldn't be any problem.

* * *

"So what've you learned so far?" Desire asks, hand propping his chin up as he lazily chews the seasoned meat of his steak. He knows she's stumbled across something interesting, or perhaps he's simply intrigued by the red stream of colour running across her cheeks.

"Aside from the fact that your table manners have become abhorrent? Enough to know that this is definitely going to work out in _my _favour. It will be an easy job. They're so close to it that I'll barely need to do anything."

"Oh really? If that's so, why is it that our goddess-angel-mermaid-nymph is standing to bestow a kiss upon the face of yonder equally lovely young lady?" Fate turns to see that he isn't simply attempting provoke her as she would originally have believed, though this is not before kicking him in the shin for hamming up his "nobleman's speech" as he calls it (he's just full of shit sometimes isn't he?). She's just in time to see a pair of gentle hands reaching up to cup Quinn's face before pink lips meet each other and _damn it all to hell._

Quinn Fabray is obviously romantically involved with this new blonde woman, somebody who Fate can't quite recognize (she can't see her face, okay?). Well the tall, clearly gay young man standing behind them is none other than Kurt Hummel, fashion icon and son of the Dragon Lady Editor-In-Chief of the country's leading fashion magazine. Which can only mean that this blonde woman whose face Fate can't quite distinguish just yet is somebody important in the fashion world. Which means that this woman is… well shit, nearly everybody is blonde. Fate sits impatiently for a moment or so and practically chokes herself with her mashed-potato laden spoon before growing weary of the waiting. With a quick twitch of her finger the pair breaks apart (my, my Quinn's lungs have never been so weak) and oh… Hanna Marin. The striking blonde is a prominent star in the world of young female designers and the goddaughter of Karl Lagerfeld. She's also Quinn's on-again, off-again (oh they are _very_ on right now) girlfriend and that's great. All Fate has to do to prove that she's the only one who can deal with love troubles is break these two up for good and get Quinn and Emily into each other's lives for good. Simple, yes. Except it's not. Because Fate doesn't play her games that way. And Desire wants to play too.

"I have a proposition for you."

"That's disgusting. Practically incest, so no thank you." Fate quirks a lip at him in mild irritation. "Besides, wouldn't it be easier for you to seduce some Victoria's Secret model into sharing your bed for the next few hours?"

"Not what I meant, oh-brilliant-master-planner-of-the-lives-of-mortal s." Desire clears his throat, taking a sip of the wine that's been sitting before him untouched for the entire duration of the meal. The cough that follows sounds suspiciously like the word pervert, but she allows him to continue. "Shall we have a little contest? You seem to believe that your magic is more potent than my own. I beg to differ. While it ultimately is important for me that they realize that they are soul mates, as you seem intent on making them, I propose that I can keep them away from each other for… well, let's begin with a year."

"This isn't a game, Des," she almost barks at him. "This is their chance at happiness that we're talking about. I cannot and will not allow anything to stop this from happening. The mortals are not our playthings." Fate watches Emily as she takes in the sight of the two blondes playing the part of cutesy couple, with Kurt in the background fawning over them. It's heartbreaking how much Emily's aura has dulled, something that even Desire notices. "And it isn't magic, it's a gift. Stop calling it magic."

"But you've not done _anything_ as of yet, which you and I both know you could do." He smirks, completely ignoring the last part of her reply. "You could be her magician, you know. Give Emily the one thing that's eluded her for the past three years. Make her dreams come true. Show her what it means to be loved by somebody who loves her. The magic of true love. All the bullshit. And for the record, if anybody treats them as playthings who else could it be but you?"

"Okay, number one, I wouldn't be doing magic because it's a _gift_, not magic! Secondly, I don't like the look of pain on her face any more than you do, but I am _not_ about to break up a couple just because I know they weren't meant to be. That's because regardless of what you seem to think, I give them more freedom than anybody allows me credit for. The humans will have to figure this out for themselves." Fate is proud of her own conviction in this. Truly, she has the power to nudge Quinn into breaking up with her devastatingly pretty blue-eyed blonde bombshell of a girlfriend and confessing her growing (it's already there, she swears she isn't making this up) attraction to one Emily Fields. Thanks to her gift she could even force away all of Emily's anxiety at such a public display and nudge the brunette into expressing her own emotions to the whole restaurant. She could do all of these things, because she's Fate and she is allowed to write and rewrite a person's life path as many times as she chooses. Sometimes it gets very, very confusing, and she slips up and gives somebody something that was meant for somebody else. But Fate has always acted only when she felt she needed to. Not whenever it suited her. And she isn't about to break the habit to win a stupid bet. "I'm not going to play this game with you, Des. Count me out of it. And leave them alone."

Desire's carefree expression is now stoic and it signifies that she's offended him more deeply than she intended to. "I do _not_ think of this as a game."

"Then why are you asking me to do this?" He stiffens and Fate knows that he's going to tell her something that he's probably been brooding over for the past century or so.

"Do you know what's it's like to have the mortals scorn your name?" She watches his face for any trace of emotion and finds it in his eyes as he stares upon his pristine plate. "I mean, sure, they do sometimes curse their ill-fate, but at the end of it all they _thank_ you for what you've done for them. And what about me?" He pauses to wet his throat with wine. "The humans blame me for ruining their relationships, landing them in jail, creating crimes. They think that I am a sin. That attraction of any vaguely romantic or desirous nature should be punishable and is vile, corrupt. Do you know what it means to feel this, this hatred from these inferior creatures?"

"What does this have to do with what you're proposing we do?"

"If I can show just one mortal that desiring something or someone does not lead to ultimate undoing, it will relieve me of my stresses. I'll be able to hold on to that memory for as long as I wish. For eternity. And thusly shall the sting of future condemnation be eased."

Fate stares at him, long and hard, barely noticing when lovely Emily takes away their plates and offers them dessert menus. Desire is clearly bothered by this, and she wonders how long it's been since the first time he was made to feel such vehemence from the mortals. She casts a glance towards the pair of blondes and their fan, and then to Emily as she brings them their check at Desire's request. Fate thinks about the conditions of this bet that he's proposed. No matter what, Desire is telling her that the final outcome of all this will be the same. Emily Fields and Quinn Fabray will realize that they were meant for each other and only for each other.

All that he's asking really, is that she allow him to meddle freely in either woman's love life (or both women's love lives) for a year. Or less, if she can get them together sooner. Which she knows she can do. "Fine. But we really need to set up restrictions and guidelines."

"I thought you'd never ask, dearest Fate. Here we go," he says, whipping his hand around in a circular motion. A few crisp bills place themselves in the check's payment compartment. "Shall we?" Fate rises and heads to the front of the restaurant, handing everything to Emily who smiles at them kindly. The smile becomes modest and even a tad surprised when Desire blinks twice at the woman and pulls a crisp fifty dollar bill from his pants pocket, handing it to her with his most polite expression in place. "Thank you for your excellent service."

"Oh sir, I couldn't possibly accept this." Emily's voice is nice, Fate decides. The tall brunette is unsure of how to hand back the money without offending a customer, but it's clear she's not used to such a large tip being handed to her so brazenly. Not to be outdone, however, Fate reaches into her own pocket and feels a hundred dollar bill materialize there. She firmly places the bill into Emily's still-open hand and winks, knowing that the small bit of power she infused with the bill will ease the other woman's thoughts.

"That's from me. Thank you, again. You were wonderfully attentive. Perhaps we'll be back quite soon." The brunette is absolutely gobsmacked by the generous tip (I mean, for two people? They tipped almost as much as their bill was worth). She recomposes herself nicely, though, with the help of Fate's influence.

"Thank you very much. We would be delighted to see you again. Have a lovely evening, ma'am, sir." Fate watches the smile appear on Emily's face and knows that she simply must win this bet. The sooner the girl gets a shot at real happiness the better.

* * *

Central Park is never quite empty, but they somehow manage to find a bench that's not being slept on or made out on. Reaching into a jacket pocket (just for show of course) Desire pulls out a small pad of paper and a pen. "So what rules did you have in mind?"

"Well for one, no using our gifts to their full extent." Fate says. Desire nods. He may be a bit of an airhead and careless with his gift at times, but even he knows that most mortals can't handle the full potential of the power of a divine being. It wouldn't be fair to them, simple little things that they are. "Secondly, we can't firmly implant anything in their minds. Everything has to be as subtle as we can possibly make it." Again, Desire nods. If they were allowed to simply _tell_ the humans what to do there would be no challenge to this little bit of fun they were about to have.

"Oh, and the time constraint. If you manage to nudge them into their realizations of true love in under a year's time, you win. If not, then we extend it to me keeping them away from each other for another year, and I get some kind of prize. This will go on year after year. Until you finally win out."

"But what if I never do?"

"Then they won't realize what they have until I get bored, which I can assure you will probably happen in about twenty-three years."

"…" Fate does some quick mental math and realizes that in twenty-three years the pair will be fifty. Wow. Ageist.

"What? It's decidedly more difficult to work with lust in people over the age of 45. I tacked on five extra years just to piss you off, dear." He grins cockily and Fate tries to remind herself of the pain of rejection he must feel from the millennia of humans who've blamed him in some form for their misfortunes in life. She might strangle him at this park bench if she doesn't keep that thought in mind.

"Fine. What would this prize be?" She almost doesn't want to know, to be honest.

"I was thinking that for every year I emerge victorious, should that be the case, you would do me the favour of siding with me for once during the annual DHRC board meeting."

"That's all?"

"Yes. In case you haven't noticed, I am the least respected member of the board. Even Dishonesty and Contempt have more weight in that boardroom. It isn't fair that I haven't as many supporters as they do, arrogant assholes though they are. If I had somebody like you to back up my ideas, I know I could make a difference to how the mortals look at me, I mean us."

"This is really eating away at you, isn't it?" Desire's face as he changes the subject is so sad that Fate can't even bother herself to push the topic.

"So shall we sign the contract?" They spend the next fifteen minutes or so finalizing rules and what not and once they are satisfied, they clasp hands and nod in sync, once, twice, thrice. The contract lying in between them on the bench glows faintly and disappears, and Fate can now see the whole thing like it's been glued to the back of her mind.

"And so the games begin."

"This—

"Isn't a game, I know, I know. But it'll be fun, just like a game!" Desire exclaims, sounding like a little boy. As he stands and turns to go, Fate calls out to him.

"Will you be alright, Des? You seemed pretty shaken at the restaurant." His face is blank, and she assumes that he just doesn't want to talk about it. "You know… I'm here if you ever want to vent… or whatever."

"Ha…" it's a soft sound, so soft that she doesn't quite catch it the first time. "Oh… ha, ha, Ha, HA, HA!" His laugh is boisterously loud. Confusing. "You thought I was serious about that? Fate, babe, you're so easy to fool. For a divine, you aren't exceptionally bright, you know." He winks as a way to show her that he's partially joking and turns on his heels, whistling his way into the night. "We start a week from now." _The little fucker tricked me!_ She wonders how she didn't see through his act. This could be very, very bad. What was that, you said? You think it wasn't that bad of him since nobody is going to end up hurt? You don't know that. Oh you do, do you? Well fuck you. You don't. Sorry… Asperger's.

* * *

**A/N: Mkay guys, and now the stage is set. Let me know your thoughts, do you want to see this continue or should I pack up and move on? All I can say is if the response is positive, well I have a looooong ride planned for us my loves. Sound off either here or hit me up on Twitter at LazyWriterGirl ;) **

**Also, aside from what I mention in A/Ns, I will be writing in quite a few pop-culture references throughout the course of this fic and am trying to decide what a prize should be for the first person to recognize these references each chapter. Any suggestions? I was thinking cookies but… you know, maybe you don't like cookies?**

**Bye bye lovelies ~ Kay**


	2. We Can Only Play if You Stay Away

**A/N: OKAY MY LOVES, so Kay saw a response (not a great response but a response nonetheless) and thus Kay will continue. Enjoy ;) Thank you to those of ya who faved/followed!**

**Unbeta-ed because I'm too dumb to go and find a beta.**

**Disclaimer: I own the storyline, Des & Fate, and Edmund Fabray. But who cares about that? I don't own any recognizable characters :'(**

* * *

**La Vie, Saturday – Dinner**

Fate sits in Sam's section of the restaurant for the first week. She'll probably come back every week. It's the perfect place to watch Emily and Quinn interact, since the table is literally only one away from the one that seems to be Quinn's favourite seat. She's lucky that it's near the edge of the section. Fate brushes away a strand of silvery blonde hair (the complete opposite of her true midnight black locks), irritated by the fact that she has to get used to disguising herself now. Wouldn't want to seem like a stalker, and it's better for the mortals not to become too accustomed to her true face. They might start noticing things. Like how her eyes are never the same colour. Or that her ears are tapered, highly unlike their own rounded ones. Or that her skin actually _glows_ like something you'd fish from a radioactive lake.

"Here we go, enjoy your meal, miss," says Sam, distracting her from her plans. She smiles up at him and thanks him, beaming after him when he leaves. What a nice guy.

"Hey, Em, just the usual for me I think. Oh, and I suppose I should order for Hanna… you know what she likes," Quinn's smoky voice wafts over to Fate's table and the divine curls over herself in her chair, attempting to find a more natural-looking position that will allow her to survey the pair more easily. Emily nods and smiles, receiving a "Thanks, you're the best" and a "Hey, what's good on the wine list tonight?" from Quinn before turning on her heel and making her way to the kitchen. There's a slump to her shoulders but she quickly shakes it off, and Fate marvels once more at the woman's tenacity. She can hear the brunette berating herself in her thoughts, repeating the words _she's taken _and _you're nobody special_. Fate genuinely feels like she's failed the woman already. If only this stupid bet…

"_Hey Fate, are you ready to play?" _Desire's voice sounds off in her head the way that it only can when one of them is at home and the other is down on mortal Earth, and for a moment the divine is confused. Then she realizes that her fellow entity must not want to show his self to the mortals anymore. He's always been more of an elitist than he initially let on when they were younger, and he follows the general tradition of affecting the lives of humans without letting them see him.

"_This is not a game. But yes. And I'm still angry with you. I should really call this off."_

"_I've apologized at every opportunity! And besides, you and I are bound by our word. We must see this through." _He's right, and she hates him for it (only not really, because she knew that as a divine being she would be obligated to fulfill any form of deal in which an oath is made. The X scratched into her shoulder proves as much).

She doesn't continue the conversation as it slowly becomes obvious that Quinn is feeling differently than she had seconds ago. When Emily rounds the corner and brings back two plates, setting one before Quinn and one across from her, Fate can feel her own eyes bulging out of their sockets at the sight of Quinn grinning coyly up at her server. _What? _From what the bastard is projecting to her she watches him sitting in their shared office space at DHRC headquarters, feet propped on his desk as he fiddles idly with a suggestion or two for Quinn's mind before discarding them both and snapping his fingers. Next thing she knows, Fate can see Quinn's gaze rake over Emily's black-clad form. The gaze turns from one of simple appreciation to one of pure, almost maddeningly obvious lust. Quinn's aura hasn't changed at all to mark this sudden attraction, and this is what makes it clear to Fate that this is a move based almost purely on Desire's suggestions. Fate isn't one of the oldest divines for nothing and she refuses to be fooled by this seemingly generous tactic. He's tempting her with it, his display of power. _It would be so simple._ Showing her how easy it would be for her to win if she'd only act like he's just done with Quinn. Irresponsibly pushing the blonde with his gift. But surely this is breaking the rules? And they'd sorted out quite a few nasty punishments should any of the rules be broken by either one of them. They're not the only ones with such punishments in mind, either, she realizes, and she can feel something akin to Panic growing within her.

"_I demand a rule revision," _she thinks, knowing full well that he'll hear her.

"_What have I done against the rules?" _His tone is guilty, and she knows that he won't argue with her demanded changes. If they aren't careful the DHRC board will strip them of their gifts for the next half-millennium. Such a frivolous abuse of humans and their lives would surely land them in more trouble than either of them is willing to face. And the lectures that would follow… Mother and Father would make an example out of them for all of the younger divines. And have they mentioned how they're two of the oldest, right under Death and Time? That's a lot of lesser divines laughing in their faces if they get caught.

"_No more than one suggestion at a time, and we have to allow them to combat it. I've said it before Des, we _can't_ dictate anything, or we'll end up with a shit-ton of problems to deal with back at DHRC HQ." _She feels his reluctant approval and doesn't bother to listen to the pseudo-bad boy speech that he's preparing himself to deliver (this is his pattern of behaviour; she knows that it's coming.). Underneath his bravado he's just as scared of the possible consequences of this spurt of immaturity as she is. With some satisfaction she watches as Quinn's eyes lose their clouded-over quality, only to regain some of the darkened tint to her cheeks when Hanna appears before her. Fate is about to contact Desire again, to admonish him, when she notes that Quinn's aura is reacting to her girlfriend's presence. This is real then, if slightly augmented by Desire's minute suggestions. Fate concentrates all of her energy into blocking out all but the people she wants to hear from. In a matter of seconds the only people whose voices can reach her ears are Sam, Emily, Hanna, and Quinn.

"I must have missed you at the benefit last night. Kurt said that you were going to drop by, where were you? Why didn't you come and say hello?" Hanna leans forward slightly to kiss the other woman's cheek, and the dress that she's wearing is clearly giving Quinn an enticing view.

"I didn't actually make it to the benefit last night baby, sorry, I should have called you two." Quinn drops her gaze to the plate before her and Fate genuinely finds it cute how hungry the poor girl seems to be. It seems that Hanna isn't too pleased with the answer or the cuteness.

"You really should have called me," she spears at a piece of lettuce while eyeing the two small slices of pizza margherita on the plate beside her salad. "I mean, I was bored anyway… we could have gone back to my place. I needed some help getting out of that dress." Fate watches as Quinn nearly chokes on the pasta she'd been practically shovelling (but more gracefully than the word would imply) into her mouth. The bright red blush that burns the green-eyed blonde's cheeks is almost violent in colour, but adorable, and Fate has to slap herself into remembering that she is a divine being and therefore is above the baser instincts of sexual attraction and arousal (what a lie, look at Desire. Divines get just as horny as the rest of the world).

"W-Wouldn't Mr. Lagerfeld have been upset with you if you'd left?" Quinn asks. Fate watches Hanna as the blue-eyed woman pretends to make a pensive face.

"Maybe for a little bit. But Papa Karl loves you, so if I were to say I left because you needed me to, he wouldn't be half so angry." She winks and Fate can make out the movement of one shoeless foot against the other blonde woman's leg. Quinn visibly shudders, but it isn't a horror-movie-I'm-so-scared shudder. It's hard to place, but maybe it's because the blonde is cold? Or maybe it isn't, but Fate can't tell because stupid Desire is just laughing at her and saying she's more clueless than a virgin. Whatever that means. She watches in puzzled amusement as the normally more composed Fabray woman attempts to stutter out a response. One of Hanna's hands can't be seen anywhere near the tabletop, something that puzzles Fate a little further.

"I-I gu-ess that makes sense. H-hey how's your food?"

"It's good… can't wait for dessert, to be honest," Hanna practically purrs, and Fate thinks that maybe this has something to do with the blush that's reached Quinn's neck. Everything clicks into place out of the blue and Fate can see that Hanna (who for the record, strikes her as a highly sexual being anyway) is acting even more overtly seductive than she would if it weren't for Desire and his stupid gift. _"Well, well, well, it seems that this will be a long dinner for Quinn."_

"_Shh, I'm trying to listen to what they're saying!"_

* * *

"I've really missed our alone time together, Q," Hanna's voice sounds an octave lower that it usually does and Fate blinks a couple of times. Through two courses and the beginning of dessert, the blue-eyed woman has managed to slowly inch her chair closer and closer to Quinn's. There's an oddly voyeuristic thrill shooting through Fate's body as she catches a glimpse of a nicely-manicured hand resting on the hazel-eyed woman's thigh. "I'm excited to get out of here…" The hand is moving slowly and _okay why is it moving? _Desire is laughing in her head again.

"Yeah me too… uh, Han, honey, could we just I don't kn-ow, maybe uh… not do this… right now? I think the elderly couple at th-e next table o-over is a bi-it upset about..."

"What's there to be upset about? Me showing you how much I just want to…" the rest of the mischievous blonde's sentence is cut off as Emily returns with two bottles of what Fate assumes to be dessert wine.

"_This should be interesting." _Desire sounds like a little boy in his excitement. Emily's aura has become dull, almost grey, while Quinn's green is flaring brightly beside Hanna's bright fuchsia lights. The green dulls when Quinn addresses Emily directly, but only enough to show that her arousal is not directed at the tall brunette. Fate sighs, knowing that she'll have her work cut out for her if things are already looking this bad. _"You're making this too easy for me." _Desire isn't taunting her. If anything, he's upset. _"If you think I'm going to just hand this to you because you refuse to play with these simple creatures than you'd best think again, Fate. I want to win, but I'll not accept that you do nothing."_ His goading continues for a while and then Fate just can't listen to it anymore. Without truly thinking out all of the possible repercussions of what she's about to do, she discreetly flicks her finger towards Quinn, then at Hanna, making a snapping motion as she changes her target. The taller of the two blondes (Quinn, as Fate reminds herself), gets a strange look on her face as she casts a glance towards the server waiting patiently beside her. Barely registering the steadily building rhythm to the pulsations of Emily's brightening aura, Fate whispers a few words, summoning two thoughts up from Quinn's subconscious. _This is what you want, Quinn, go after what you want._

"Hey Em… have I ever told you how absolutely gorgeous I think you are?" As soon as the words leave her mouth the faces of the three women form a trifecta of hilariously placed expressions. Hanna is glaring simultaneously at her girlfriend and her girlfriend's favourite server whilst Quinn has slapped a hand over her mouth in awe of her own words and Emily's jaw seems to have come slightly unhinged. "I… I—shit." The glare from Hanna is intensifying and Fate feels a slight thrum in her chest at the delicious drama unfolding mere feet away. Emily has a look on her face that can't make up its mind if it's hopeful or apologetic and she beats a quick retreat back to the safety of the kitchens, leaving the two blondes to each other for the moment. "Han, I don't know why that just happened!"

Hanna is inspecting her nails, something that confuses Fate. Don't humans only do that when they're bored? When she looks up from them though, her normally warm blue eyes are sharp as needles and Quinn visibly flinches. "Neither do I." Sam passes by with her dessert, an exquisitely formed crème brûlée, and catches the way that the blue eyes are making Quinn uncomfortable. When the blonde man looks back to the kitchen doors to see Emily hovering, glancing at the table in discomfort, he's immediately at her side thinking, _what happened?_ Fate is too preoccupied with the pair of women at the table to mark the exchange going on between the pair of best friends. It seems though, that the conversation will be taking place somewhere more private, and Fate practically kills the elderly man one table over in her mad rush to pay her check and follow the blondes back to Hanna's flat.

* * *

**La Vie, Wednesday – Lunch**

"I don't know what happened, Kurt, honestly." Saturday night hadn't ended in the way that Hanna or Quinn had been expecting, and Fate can't help but feel a touch guilty. A bite of the (ridiculously) good shrimp scampi she'd ordered is enough to kill those feelings. It seems that Kurt and Quinn have a weekly "Hump-day" lunch date, something that Fate is grateful for. All the more time in which she can scrutinize her newly-destined-soon-to-be-lovers (she cleared everything with the DHRC just yesterday) and slowly push them closer together. And Desire has no clue that this is happening. Oh, look, there's Emily now. Fate snaps her fingers together lightly, urging Emily to do something she's been thinking of doing since Saturday night.

"Miss Fabray?" Emily's voice clearly catches in her throat, something that the pair of mortals sitting before her doesn't notice.

"Emily, I'd really like for you to call me Quinn, remember?" Quinn's remarkably composed for somebody who not just two seconds ago had been whining into her chicken salad.

"I just wanted to…apologize. For Saturday. I hope that you and Miss Marin are alright." It's a lie, that last bit. Fate can't actually tell her what to say, you know. Desire would call her a pansy.

"You've got nothing to apologize for, I assure you. Hanna and I have broken up over sillier things than this before." Quinn says, and Emily takes the smile as a sign that her relationship with her favourite customer is intact. After politely asking Kurt if he's enjoying his meal she leaves the pair to their conversation. "She's so beautiful. I just can't believe I said that to her face."

Kurt, who Fate decides is the most fabulous man she's ever seen (Desire included), looks on in amusement as his best friend continues to whinge. "Can't believe what? That you told Emily how smoking hot she is or that you said it to her while Hanna was playing tickle me Quinnie under the table with your— a glare from Quinn cuts that sentence short, but the tall man persists in his teasing. "Oh, maybe you meant how you just told her that you and Hanna broke up. For what wasn't the first time."

"Yes, yes, and yes. God, why do you make this sound so clear-cut?"

"Because it is."

"Kurt! I don't even know if I _like_ Emily like that. I mean, she's gorgeous, and I think of her as more than just my favourite server, but I'm in love with Hanna, Kurt. In love." Quinn's face is reminiscent of a kicked puppy and Fate almost coos at how cute the blonde is. Kurt is less than impressed.

"Okay, first of all, is Emily even interested in other women… that way?" The pair glances over at the server like they're on a Disney show, eyes wide and expectant. As luck (and Fate) would have it, Emily is currently talking to another patron, a blonde with a lithe, tall form. She's paying attention to the woman as she speaks, but the pair notices how her gaze dips appreciatively to the woman's chest and legs before bringing itself back to her face. "Well now that that's clear… Why don't you just… I don't know, get to know her? Ask her if she likes successful authors. Oh my God, take her to Hanna's fashion show with me!"

"Are you _insane?_ Do you even realize what you just said? Number one, I don't think that now of all times would be appropriate to flirt. She's working. Secondly, I'm supposed to bring the girl whose appearance elicited the comment that ultimately broke the straw on the camel's back with my relationship with Hanna to HANNA'S fashion show?" Kurt's eyebrow raises quizzically at the second sentence, earning an impatient hand-flapping gesture from Quinn, something that Fate thinks resembles a nervous twitch. "You know I don't know if I even like Emily. It's too early to date anyway, Hanna and I just broke up on Saturday. And I love Hanna, as I've told you before."

"Okay, alright, relax Quinn." Kurt pats her hand slowly as she gulps down her water. "Fine, that was stupid of me. But you could always just talk to Emily. Maybe find out if she'd be good for you, so that when you _do_ decide to date again, you might be smart enough to avoid another soap opera romantic arc with Hanna." He scoffs. "Seriously, you two are textbook high school sweethearts who'll end up getting married and hating each other because you broke up so many times on your way to the altar."

"Don't say that. I love her, Kurt. I will get her back."

"Whatever you say." Fate appreciates the quickness with which Kurt replies. His natural comedic timing is lovely.

She's about to suggest to Emily that Quinn could use a water refill when _"Not inviting me to the party? How rude of you." _God-fucking-shit-motherfuck.

_"Go away."_

_ "You've not been playing fairly with me so far Fate. I demand that you return home. No more messing with the mortals in person. Your pull is much stronger than mine from down there."_ She sighs. He's right. She hasn't been fair. That whole Quinn-complimenting-Emily scenario was far too easy to orchestrate. There'd been no resistance from the blonde, though clearly it was something that had caused Quinn mental anguish. Handing her payment to Sam with a light smile, she casts one final glance around the restaurant, sad that she'll no longer be able to dine there regularly (or at least, not when her playthings are both under the same roof). _"Oh and Fate. This is for ruining my plans for Hanna and Quinn." _She swerves around in time to see Quinn chatting up the blonde woman Emily had been speaking to moments ago. How the fuck did she get over there so fast? Kurt watches on with amusement, making gestures at Quinn to "get some". He doesn't seem to be questioning why Quinn has moved on so quickly from declaring her love for Hanna Marin, and frankly he doesn't give a shit. So long as she comes to the fashion show with him, he's good, and if getting it on with a stranger is her kick, he sure as hell won't stop her. His mother would kill Andy (and him) if she had to rearrange the seating last minute.

_"Once you get back home, I can assure you you'll find that thwarting my plans won't be so easy. My magic is totally badass."_

The fucker. Fate wishes she could punch him or something, but that wouldn't help matters much. _"It's not magic!"_

* * *

**A/N: Hmm…not too happy with how this chapter turned out, so I had to ditch Fate's POV type-thing. I'm not a divine creature. I don't know how to write their thought processes, so sorry if this sucks :/ **

**PS: The first person (only if you've got an account, I can't PM Guests) to tell me who Kurt's mother is gets to know who Quinn's hooking up with next chapter. Hints can be found in the first chapter and in the last section of this one.**

**SHOUTOUTS TO: **

**swordsong: Thank you for taking the time to let me know what you thought **** COOKIES FOR YOU.**

**Breyanaxo: I think I answered your question over PM, but yeah… changed the concept since then. It was hampering my writing the way I'd originally intended to write. **

**Rushii15: Glad you find it interesting, and gladder still that you love Quimily :D**

**And thanks to Alex, though you are but a guest, your encouragement is always great to see **

**shayrhin10: I wish there was more about them too! Updated! **

**Kay's out y'all. Faded.**


	3. Quinn Fabray, Extreme Rebounder

**A/N: First off, I want to apologize for bothering you guys to review. You shouldn't have to, and while I'm grateful to those of you who do, I'll try to stop asking you guys at the end of every chapter. You should be free to do whatever you want ****. (Shout-outs are still at the end of the chapter, as always) And I'm trying to not write A/N's at the beginning of chapters anymore. Well, after this one, obviously. **

**I toughed it out and stuck with Fate's POV (sorta), so please bear with me. It's more complicated to write than I'd have thought possible. Quimily interaction upcoming! And also, one last thing, chapters will probably be shorter for reasons I can't precisely say. Quicker updates for one.**

**Oh, and rating changed to M, just because I talk a lot about sex in this (nothing explicit) and upcoming chapters. Des is a pervert and I am paranoid.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anybody or anything. Well, Des & Fate, and Edmund Fabray are mine. And the plot. But that's all. **

**La Vie, Saturday – Dinner**

"So how many times have they…?"

"You mean since Wednesday? I'm not sure. I lost count sometime in the wee hours of Thursday morning."

"You do realize that your gifts are the cause of this, and that internally the poor girl is probably tearing her brains apart." Fate sighs. Desire had succeeded in his attempt to get Quinn to bring the blonde woman from Wednesday's lunch over to her flat. Once there Fate had turned away to afford the women some privacy in their intimacy, not that Des had shown the same reservations. She'd found him sitting in the office the next day, amusement etched into every impossibly symmetrical feature. It's Saturday and she's finished taking care of her paperwork, so Fate finds herself sitting in her favourite office armchair with Desire in a similar one beside her, both of them watching the events down on earth unfold in real-time.

Desire cocks one elegantly formed eyebrow at his seated companion, adopting her haughty, condescending tone as he says, "You do realize that due to your ridiculous handicaps, all I can do is offer suggestions to 'the poor girl' who, as you may not realize, is using our dancer there to assuage the pain of rejection." He pauses, lips quivering with the promise of a chuckle. "A pain that was caused by none other than you, if I may add."

"Nobody asked your opinion, but fine. I'm the bad guy. It's my fault Quinn's unhappy. Fuck off, just pay attention." Fate can feel her temper rising and knows that somewhere out in the world Wrath is wondering why some of his energy is being pulled up to DHRC HQ. "I'm through being kind with you, Des. You and I both know I've developed more power over our lifespan. This isn't going to be a problem, I can assure you."

"You mean you're going to break them up? And so soon?"

"They've not spoken about a formal relationship as of yet, Des, and you know it. It's all sex. Even you can't make mortals fall in love." Fate sighs again, directing her attention to the screen before her and not on Des because well _screw him_.

"So… Your new cat. You mentioned him a few times back at my place. What was his name again?" Quinn asks, feeling slightly awkward. Sure, she'd met Brittany a few years back. They'd even become sort of friends after Brittany came back from touring with Beyonce, and Quinn even took classes at Brittany's dance studio every once in a while. Still, they've never crossed that boundary between friends and fuck-buddies (that's the only way to describe their relationship at the moment, to be honest). This is the first time they've actually called each other up to do something _other _than have sex, and it's odd but she's thankful for that. She doesn't know how much more her body would've been able to take. Yes, she and Hanna had been active, but not _at all_ the way that she'd been for the better part of the past 72 hours or so.

"Lord Tubbington the second. He's a slum-lord and has a gambling addiction like his dad, and I'm sure he's been reading my diary, because he says you sound pretty from my description of you. I told him how pretty you are and he said he wants to meet you." Quinn's face flushes at Brittany's somehow-a-compliment.

"Thanks… so wait… your cat wants to meet me?" From her seat up in her and Des' office, Fate can see that this diversion of Des' won't last past tonight. It really won't, because she sure as hell isn't going to let Quinn stay with this sweet yet incredibly different girl for much longer. Not as lovers anyway.

It isn't difficult; all that Fate really does is watch Quinn go through the motions of enjoying her dinner, constantly sending little reminders to look at how beautiful Emily's hair or skin or eyes or face is. While ultimately all of these little reminders do next to nothing, it's still groundwork and Fate needs to lay a lot of that down and fast. Des has a wolfish grin on his goddamn face that just doesn't seem to want to come off and he's fiddling around with somebody's head on some random bench in Central Park.

"What are you doing?"

"Winning!"

"Okay, no. Never say that. Secondly, shouldn't you be trying to salvage Brittany and Quinn's farce of a relationship?"

The look that he gives her is something incredible. Like a platypus wearing a fedora or something fantastic like that. "Oh, I never claim to create _relationships, _Fate dear. That was just a quick diversion."

"Diversion from the ultimate ending in which I win?" She looks at him smugly. It's been only a week and she's won already. How wonderful is she? Pretty fucking wonderful, she thinks, and then she wonders why she's taken to cursing so much. Fucking Desire and his stupid fucking influence. Fuck.

"You're so silly, silly goose," He sings at her, like a child but with a depraved smile on his face. "A diversion for myself. I needed to be distracted to find what I was looking for and by golly I think I've just done it." Fate stares at him balefully, eyes heavy-lidded under long eyelashes. _Why does he always do this? It's so difficult to keep track of all his silly little ways of speech._ She leaves him alone, figuring that it would be best to just concentrate on her winning the game. Not that this is a game. At all. Not at all.

Within the next ten minutes Quinn has explained to Brittany that she can't see them going anywhere and it was a mistake to hook up with somebody so soon after being dumped by the woman she's still in love with. Brittany nods and says she understands before smiling as she tells Quinn that she can always call her if she just wants to talk. Quinn nods, asks about the next jazz class Brittany's offering, and then the girls split up, with Brittany hailing a cab and Quinn deciding (with some suggestion from Fate) to take a walk around Central Park. It's late, sure, but it's bright and there are tons of people around.

Sitting at a bench for an hour all by herself has left Quinn feeling conflicted. Fate sympathizes with the blonde woman. It must be difficult for the mortals, she thinks, having such fragile little hearts. All of Quinn's thoughts are focused on Hanna and how she's gone and ruined their (previously ruined) relationship by sleeping with Brittany. _"Many, many times."_ Desire's voice sounds weird in her mind, and Fate is quick to slap him upside the head for his inappropriate use of telepathy.

"I'm sitting right beside you, you clout-headed fool." In response Desire shrugs and continues fiddling with whichever mortal's mind he's been working on since they sat down. "What in mother and father's names are you doing?"

"I'm experimenting on what works best in the manipulation of mortals. Given how you insisted on stripping me of my most valuable skills, such as the ability to create a need for instant sexual gratification, I'm driven to combine my magical powers to create a more potent spell then 'you know you wanna kiss the girl".

"They are _not_ magic _nor_ powers you dimwit." She really can't come up with anything else to say because there's her victory unfolding, right there. Emily takes a quick walk through Central Park after her shift, to clear her head, and it's why she wanted for Quinn to take a walk. Focusing back on the women down on earth Fate breathes in. All she needs to do is play this cool and she can have them start to bond.

"Quinn?" Emily's lovely voice has an interesting effect on the blonde. It almost looks like she's both trying to turn around and yet force herself not to respond to her name.

"Emily, hey. Wow, is it midnight already?" Quinn can't quite believe she's been sitting in the same spot for so long, but it's pleasantly cool outside. She hadn't noticed the dimming sunlight.

"Well, in fifteen minutes. Sam told me to go home early so I thought I'd just take my usual walk first." Quinn nods, then remembers her manners and pats the spot beside her, not able to see the excitable pulse of Emily's aura as she sits.

"Why'd Sam tell you to go home early?"

"I've been feeling a little off lately. He thinks I may be coming down with a cold." Fate sighs happily at this interaction as Quinn's normally calm face takes on a gentle shadow of concern. She'd not known that Quinn truly thought of Emily as a friend before this, though this ultimately makes things much easier for her to win this game. Not a game, she reminds herself sternly.

"Are you alright? You shouldn't be out here for very long if you're feeling unwell." Quinn says as she puts a soft hand on Emily's shoulder. The electric blue colour is bursting with light at this point and Fate wonders at how mortals can't see such obvious signs of a person's mental state. They must be less keen with observations than she'd credited them as being. Quinn's own green aura is almost normal, back from being dark and heavy-looking at least, something which Fate takes as a positive sign. At least Emily's effect on the blonde beside her is positive enough to relieve some of the pain that Hanna had created.

"I'm fine, really. I feel off, not unwell. It isn't too cold anyway… thank you for your concern, Quinn." Despite it not being too cold, Emily feels herself shiver a little and Fate notes how she's torn between wanting Quinn to notice and wanting Quinn to ignore it.

"Of course. I'm your friend, Emily. And it _is_ a bit chilly for April. Here, take my jacket." Quinn can't quite place why she feels so nurturing over the other woman. It's a little weird, since their outside-the-restaurant interactions add up to zero before this. Nonetheless, she removes the lightweight leather from her shoulders and drapes it lightly over Emily's. Emily's aura looks like it's about to explode into fireworks or whatever it is that the mortals use when they want to metaphorically represent extreme happiness.

"Thank you… but aren't you cold now?" Emily's face is now a mirror of Quinn's, concern etched into her pretty features. "You should take this back, Quinn." Fate begins to push a few thoughts to the forefront of Quinn's mind, hoping that the blonde is adventurous enough (and enough over Hanna at this point) to go for at least one of them. She takes the bait, but it's the option that Fate was hoping she wouldn't choose. This will require more maneuvering. Desire seems to be ignoring the entire scene from his perch beside her, and she puzzles at that a moment before turning her focus back to the girls. No use in wondering what's going on in that man-child's head.

"No, really I'm fine… but if you insist, how about I walk you to your place and I take my jacket back once you get into the warmth?" Emily seems to juggle the pros and cons (not that there are many cons to her crush letting her borrow a jacket for an escorted walk home) and when she finally speaks there's a shy smile to accompany the soft words.

"That sounds nice. I mean… yes, okay. I don't live too far away from here." Quinn nods and rises from the bench, rolling her shoulders to ignite some warmth underneath the cotton of her shirt. She offers a hand to Emily and the darker woman takes it, using Quinn's weight to right herself. Once she's on her feet Emily tells Quinn where they're headed, surprised to find that the blonde lives in a flat a mere five blocks from her building. They begin their walk, unknowing that Fate is tugging at strings here and there, determined to build the foundation for what will ultimately prove to be destined romance.

"Thanks again for the jacket." Emily slips out of the apartment-warmed leather and hands it to Quinn, who takes it with some reluctance (it's _her_ jacket. Why doesn't she want it back?). "Would you like to come in?" Fate loses the following battle with Quinn's psyche. It's late, she's tired, and she doesn't want to stop Emily from getting any rest. Wait. What?

"No, no thank you. You should probably head into bed, Emily, wouldn't want you to get sick." The smile that the mocha-skinned woman shoots her makes Quinn's stomach quiver oddly, but she ignores it as nothing. After exchanging friendly goodnights and a jokingly serious "See you on Wednesday" from Emily, Quinn leaves. She puts on her jacket to shield from the chill that seems to have crept its way into the city and decides to walk home. Ten to fifteen minutes in minor discomfort is nothing, and at least she has her jacket. Funny how it kind of smells like Emily's subtle perfume; it isn't like the leather is particularly porous. _Been kind of a weird day._

"So that was your master plan in action?" Desire asks out of nowhere.

"In a way, yes. I'm building a relationship that will last a lifetime here, Des, not trying to incite a fuckfest." She rolls her eyes at him, earning a laugh.

"That's not exactly what I do, you know." He shakes his head, making a clicking sound with his tongue that he knows she despises. "I merely allow the mortals to access the courage they lock away when faced with the object of their desire. What follows that is none of my concern." He's partially lying, partially telling the truth, but that isn't what bothers Fate. It's the thought that he'd been working on something for the _whole night_ and yet nothing has happened.

"Des…" He makes a "shh" motion with his finger and lips, drawing her attention back onto the screen. All the Fate can see is Quinn's blonde figure being called out to by yet another blonde (is everybody blonde?). This new woman seems to know Quinn, and what's more she seems to like her. As in, _like _her. And, with the help of Desire's "courage-unlocking" she's well aware that a vulnerable Quinn Fabray can be easily wooed with a little patience and a lot of sex appeal. _Well screw you Des._

**A/N: Enh… went over this a good five or six times throughout the past week and I still don't know how I feel about it. But whatever.** **There are 3 mini references to pop culture. First three people to give me at least two of these will be PMed with the name of this new blonde competitor for Quinn's affections.**

**Congrats to Serna93 for being the first to guess that Miranda Priestly is Kurt's mom! (Not that I'll really be writing about her a lot so… yeah)**

**Thank you for the faves and follows! You guys are pure wonderful.**

**S/O TO:**

**Alex: Dude, you're awesome. **

**Serna93: Your review made me smile (as all reviews do) and I'm glad you like this so far!**

**Rushii15: Thank you! Hope you like this **

**YayRainbows: Sadly I can't send you guys actual cookies… but the next time you eat one, you can pretend I gave it to you so it's almost as good, right? **** Thanks for letting me know about the absence of suckage. You rock.**

**Wow… gonna have to stop with the shoutouts and just PM all y'all. Kay, good talk. Bye for now, loves.**

**~ Kay ~ **


	4. Pretty Little Plaything

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee and Pretty Little Liars because I don't, and as such I don't make any money out of this and that thought is super depressing.**

**Warning: Quinn gets around a lot, and throughout the story sex will be referenced multiple times in the form of dirty jokes and vague descriptions and other vague things. So… have fun with that.**

* * *

As far as Fate can tell, Kitty Wilde has pretty much had her whole life handed out to her since birth. For that, the deity instantly dislikes the blonde. She knows that perhaps she and Luck are possibly to blame, and really whose right is it to wish the cheerleading champion ill? But still, Fate can't wait to destroy what little relationship this newcomer has with Quinn, and fast. She almost wants to be angry with the blonde half of her dream couple for letting herself get swept up in Kitty's athletic cheerleader build and overtly sexual nature. She's predatory, the shorter girl, and for some reason Quinn seems to be doing nothing to resist.

_Not really… cut her some slack,_ Fate says to herself, because Quinn is really trying to resist. She is. And impressively enough for a human going up against an eager woman and a semi-deranged divine being she's managed to hold off on leaping into bed with the captain of last year's national cheerleading champions. The good news there is that that means she's not as interested in Kitty as Desire would like. The bad news is that it's cost her a full month and a half that could've been spent guiding Quinn and Emily together. Not that Fate knows what's actually been happening. She's been swamped with cases from the DHRC about changing Sally Somebody's future plans or saving Wally Whatshisname from making a terrible decision. Maybe Quinn and Kitty are actually getting along, which is not as comforting a thought as the opposite of that.

"Good morning Fate dear," says a debonair voice as Fate shakes her head. Desire has been dropping by their office every single day to help progress his little sideshow along. Last he'd actually spoken to Fate about it, Kitty has been proving extremely malleable in following even the smallest of suggestions, something that Desire clearly finds both amusing and annoying, grand-orchestrator that he likes being and all. Fate's been keeping quiet about the extra office hours in the hopes that he'll slowly begin to trust her with even the most insignificant of details on his endeavors. Thing is though, they still have mandatory work to accomplish, and despite his being in the office nearly twenty-four hours every day Desire simply refuses to partake in his share of the paperwork they're supposed to be dividing equally and _that_ is beginning to seriously piss her off.

"You're falling behind in paperwork, Des. And no, before you ask, I shan't be doing it for you."

As predicted he pouts like a little boy and waits for her to finish at the coffee machine (believe it or not, deities/divine creatures/whatever your mortal mind is most comfortable calling them, well they need caffeine too). "Can't you help me even a bit? I detest paperwork."

"Sorry champ, but maybe you should put some of those office hours towards catching up with the rest of us and _not _messing with the love lives of these poor women." He scoffs to indicate that he finds this suggestion absurd and retreats back into their office. She follows with a scoff of her own and finds that he's placed a sizable portion of the paper mountain on his desk in front of his armchair. "My, my, are you actually planning on _working?_" He grimaces at the teetering mound as his hands glide over his desk in search of a pen.

"Not really, but maybe if I feign interest in it you'll be so distracted by my brilliant acting that I can easily slide my new pet right past you and into Quinn's bed. I mean arms. Yes, Quinn's arms."

"New pet?" She pauses at that information. To suspect something like this is one thing but for it to actually be happening is a completely different story. "And who would that be?"

"See for yourself dearest Fate." He points towards their monitor of Earth (let's pretend that it is DHRC satellite television), guiding her around the paper blockade and nabbing her mug in the process. With some trepidation, Fate seats herself at her armchair and stares down on the blank screen with intent. "I just couldn't work with that Kitty girl after her initial appearance on the scene, and thankfully our lovely angel-goddess-mermaid-nymph was most unimpressed with the hero worship thrust upon her." He steals a sip of coffee from her mug before placing it back in her hands. "Luckily for me, _this_ beautiful creature happened to be stepping into La Vie as Quinn was leaving her Wednesday lunch date with Kurt. Apparently she and our lamb were both students of the NYU English department a few years back. Needless to say, they were both eager enough to rekindle their friendship which, from what I can glean, fell in line with the "college-girls-experimenting-and-liking-it" stereotype of today.

It's been a real struggle with this one though, and a glorious battle every single step of the way. She won't listen to a damn thing I say without me practically having to appear to her in dream form as the ghost of relationships present." In curiosity Fate waits for the monitor to sharpen its newly projected image. Whoever this new woman is, she's certainly earned Desire's most earnest interest.

* * *

**La Vie, Saturday **

"I'm surprised," says the blonde woman across from Quinn. Her voice carries a mischievous lilt to it, earning a blush from her dining partner though her statement had been perfectly innocuous. Fate is surprised to find that this new woman (_how many times_ is she going to have to register a new woman's face in her mind?) is positively stunning. Almost like an angelic little doll, save for the trickster grin that she's sporting.

"Why surprised?" Quinn's voice sounds tight, and her aura is spiralling in and out, dark to light and back again. Confusion, arousal, hesitation, nervousness, expectation. The red aura across from her beats steadily in contrast, signalling confidence and the definite sense of winning something. Winning what? Fate sips nervously from her mug, noting the slick smile on Desire's face as her lips touch the pottery. So _this _is his chosen "pet". She must definitely be some special kind of mortal for Desire to be so keen on her.

"Well we've been seeing each other for almost three weeks now and you haven't tried anything on me. Was I wrong in thinking you wanted…" here her voice trails off and all that Quinn can see is long-lashed eyes and a moist, parted mouth. Beside Fate, Desire practically crows in delight, but she ignores him and focuses on trying to get Quinn to say something stupid like "Yeah, you were so wrong."

"I… what, no! I mean, no, you weren't wrong in thinking that I wanted… that… uh."

"Wow, have I brought my adorable author to a loss for words?" The teasing tone is not easily missed, and as Emily sidles closer with the dessert menu Fate can see her aura drop into a deep navy. It seems to Fate that since this new woman appeared on the scene Quinn's not been as kind to her friend as she'd been the night of Kitty appearance (and apparently disappearance) in Quinn's field of romantic vision. The woman waits for Emily to leave before dropping her voice into a low, still teasing whisper and saying, "I thought the only time I could leave you speechless was when you had my tongue between your thighs."

* * *

"I think that I may actually build a little on this relationship," Desire says as his messy scrawl traverses the length of a page. Fate can feel her jaw drop as she turns towards him, vaguely praying that he's joking. In the long run, sure, she'll eventually emerge victorious, but for now how can her hand-holding and jacket-lending compete with the primal, heated, _insatiable_ need to just tear each other's clothes off? It can't, and she knows it, and she absolutely cannot stand that Desire has the edge over her right now. She knows that she has quite a long while to go in this competition between them, but if she can't bring her chosen pair together in the next ten months Desire will have access to her support when facing the DHRC Board. Mother and Father only know what kind of trouble he could get them into. _Please don't be serious you pervert. Please._

"Are you capable of doing that?" Her voice is cold, too cold, and she knows that even somebody as oblivious as Desire can zero in on the harshness behind her words. He stays silent, actually reading over the paper he's just scribbled over, slapping his hand to his forehead as he realizes that he needs it. _Well this is now thoroughly uninteresting. _Thankfully the action on screen is not.

* * *

"So do you ever plan on asking me out, or will I have to do that?" Quinn flushes at the sight of a pink tongue gliding languorously over the edge of her companion's spoon. "Okay, fine. Quinn Fabray, I want you to be my girlfriend. Again."

"Were we dating back then? And is that what you call asking?" Quinn muses softly, though she's already leaning closer towards the blonde, darkened hazel eyes torn between the spoon and the eyes glinting above it. Fate is practically praying _No, please, no, no, why not Emily _before she realizes that somebody else is echoing her unspoken mantra. Emily. The poor girl is watching from a few tables away, pretending to listen as the seated elderly couple she's serving bickers over what they want to eat as an appetizer. _She's got it so bad._

"I like to think we were pretty exclusive in our intimacy, Quinn. As for asking, that's how I ask for things I want." Another minx-like grin. "I never fail to get what I want." Fate can see that Quinn is somewhat turned off by the other woman's cocky confidence, but then it only serves to remind her of Hanna when she was being the 'alpha-bitch'. While Quinn Fabray is definitely not the type to be led around like a lamb, she can appreciate the sexiness of a confident woman, even one as blatantly spoiled as her possible-brand-new girlfriend. Wait, she just thought of Hanna and her shit didn't all break to pieces? Fucking _yes_ Fabray! Fabray - 1, Marin - 99.

"I can see that. But… before we get into something so soon, you do know that Hanna Marin and I broke up about two months ago, right?" Ha, ha! Fabray - 2 , Marin - 99. Quinn's slowly making some progress in her battle against the Hanna heartbreak hovering over her for the past sixty days.

"I know. And I think it's sweet that you've stayed single for so long since then, but you do know that she's been seeing somebody else, right?" The hurt that spreads through Quinn's face is enough to make even this arrogant woman flinch. Fabray - 2, Marin - 100. "Sorry Quinn, I thought you knew." _Well clearly she didn't, bitch. _Fate doesn't know why she's reacting so angrily to this woman. It isn't as though she knows her or anything (by virtue of her being Fate though, yes, she does technically know _everybody_, including Bitchy McAngelFace). There's something very secretive about her, something that Fate just does not like at all. She doesn't know how difficult things will be for herself (and for Quinn) if Desire plans on keeping this pet of his in the game for an extended period of time. _Fuck, not a game, Fate. Not a game._

"She's been seeing someone… no, no it's fine. I mean, she broke up with me, so she's free to see whomever she wants." Quinn's face is pleading with her companion to tell her what she knows about Hanna's new girlfriend. Fabray - 2, Marin - 110. Why does this hurt so much?

"As are you," says the blue-eyed blonde. "And in case you were curious, she's dating that Montgomery woman who helped with the venue for her last show. Aria, was it? Yes, well, they've been out on the town for the past month or so looking _very_ intimate at several popular clubs. I think they were even here last Friday, I'm sure Emily could tell you."

Without hesitation Quinn turns to find Emily's eyes before the tall brunette can drop her gaze back to the still-arguing couple. She pardons herself from them and makes her way towards Quinn and her date, the blue of her aura brightening and darkening in time as she glances between them. "Yes?"

"Was Hanna here with a woman last Friday?" Quinn knows that Emily doesn't need to answer, probably shouldn't answer, but she's unable to stop the flash of anger that hits her when the other woman stands there blank-faced. "Jesus, Emily, tell me."

"Y-yeah." Emily sounds timid and scared and Fate clicks her tongue at Quinn's harshness.

"Yeah? That's all you can say to me? Come on Em, what did this other girl look like? Tall, short, hair colour, eye colour?" Emily pauses, and to Quinn and her dining companion it must seem like she's stalling. Fate knows that the poor woman is just scared of hurting Quinn's feelings by confirming the other blonde bitch's news. "Fucking Christ!"

"She was with Aria Montgomery…"

"That's all, you can go now," says the other blonde with a shooing motion of her wrist, and Fate is practically seething as she watches Quinn nod and say nothing. This is highly unusual for the hazel-eyed blonde; Fate can't ever recall her being downright _rude_ to Emily. It must be this other woman's influence. "See. Hanna's letting herself move on. You should too." She has a saccharine smile on her Cupid's bow mouth and Desire, ever the opportunist, begins to nudge Quinn into saying yes. His suggestions are blatantly sexual in nature, mostly quick little thoughts about what that mouth is capable of doing in intimate situations. Quinn, resolve weakened in her distress over Hanna replacing her, is quick to accept his messages and Fate groans. This will be the most difficult hurdle yet (not that Kitty or Brittany was ever really a hurdle).

Quinn's now-officially-new girlfriend practically purrs. "Hm, that's my girl." When a manicured hand glides over her own Quinn allows a smile to ghost her face. Her eyes don't quite match the expression she's attempting to convey, so she lets them hover aimlessly over the other blonde's head until she's watching the server whom she'd just been inexcusably rude to. Looking at Emily is vaguely upsetting for her though, and so she instead focuses on impish blue eyes.

"Ali, can we go now?"

* * *

**A/N: Ermehgerd wert?! Ha, that probably didn't surprise any of you, you're all so smart. Anywho, yeah… don't know where this story is coming from, really, but I'm definitely going to be switching gears. Pacing is weirdly difficult writing from Des & Fate's side of things, so hopefully my little track switch will enable us to get a fuller view of this story. Thank you to everybody who reads and follows this story. Without you GGHT is nothing, which isn't saying much, but still says something. Will Desire actually push this relationship further? Or will he move Quinn right along on her way to become the Queen of the Heart(breakers). Who can say? ;)**

**~ Kay ~**


	5. Rudeness, Rudeness Everywhere

**Disclaimer: You know the drill; I don't own anything except for characters that don't even appear in this mini-chapter or the next! **

**Warnings: I think this is the last time I'll do warnings, since y'all will probably have seen the other ones and you're smart enough to figure stuff out anyway ;) SO… Yeah, sex gets mentioned a lot, maybe even described (as in, next mini-chapter) :O I KNOW RIGHT, TOTALLY OMG. Moving on. **

* * *

It's pleasantly warm when Emily steps out of La Vie that same night. Sam had caught the distressed tension in her shoulders as she'd watched Quinn and her obviously-new-girlfriend step out into the city together and had promptly told her to go home and rest; he'd told his godmother Emily was getting sick again and thankfully she'd acquiesced. The image was burnt into Emily's overworked mind; Quinn had been flushed and beautiful as always, one of her girlfriend's graceful arms curled possessively around her waist. The two blondes had started to laugh as they walked away from La Vie, carried into good humour by each other's presence, it seemed. Emily wasn't stupid or delusional in any way; she and Quinn had never been more than friends. Still, it hurt to see the blonde being so affectionate with that Ali woman. She can't stop thinking about how the pair of them had snarked at her earlier, even as the sweet scent of flowers fills her nose.

Emily cuts through Central Park as she always does, walking slowly as to enjoy the warm breeze of late spring. June is just beginning, but the tint of summer already hangs on the air and it's comforting. Emily has always loved summer best of all. She can't quite explain why – Sam always jokes about how summer being shorts n' skirts season is what makes Emily happy – but she's always felt that summer leads her to her happiness. Maybe it's just because every other season has been tarnished by some unmentionable experience and summer has yet to allow Emily to suffer through another terrible life-event.

She hears the couple before she sees them, but it's unmistakably them laughing loudly into the night. Ali and Quinn. _They've not gone home yet?_ Emily wants to circle back and take the second-shortest route back home, but she stops herself. She's got nothing to be ashamed of. Of course she'd hesitate at giving Quinn the answer to her questions. She didn't want the blonde to be hurt by the truth of the matter, but clearly Ali Whateverhernameis didn't hold the same reservations. Emily straightens her shoulders and begins to walk past the benches all lined up in rows, couples sharing intimate moments underneath the New York City lights. She makes it past nearly every single stupid, happy couple but falters at the last two benches when the lace of her shoe comes undone. Weird, she could've sworn it had been perfectly tied before she'd rounded the bend.

"Baby, isn't that Emily?" Emily can hear Ali's light voice posing the question and she resists the urge to gnash her teeth together as she stoops down to tie her shoe. She hears Quinn hum affirmatively before there's the sound of kisses being exchanged and she stands upright, refusing with every fibre of her being to turn around. Digging her iPod out of her pocket Emily scrolls absentmindedly through her playlists before settling on some random list she's not even sure she made. Daft Punk begins to pulse out through her earbuds and she scrunches up her nose. She's not a fan of Daft Punk. Oh well, it'll be on to the next song soon enough. At this point Emily couldn't care less. The sound of rushing feet reaches her ears a few times, but she ignores it and turns the volume up a touch. Slightly better.

_When I was a young boy,_  
_My father took me into the city_  
_To see a marching band._

_He said, "Son when you grow up,_  
_would you be the saviour of the broken,_  
_the beaten and the damned?"_

She makes it out of the park and is literally three steps away from the main door of her building when she feels a hand on her shoulder. Panic is up at her throat like vomit and she wonders briefly if a little puke would be enough to deter somebody from harming her in any way. She spins wildly on the top step only to find that it's Quinn whose hand steadies her as she fights to keep both her bile and her body level. Ali's intense blue eyes are on Emily and even though she's a good three inches taller than the blonde, she feels a sense of unease wash through her. The shorter woman takes Quinn's hand into her own and begins to play with it absentmindedly as she looks at Emily with an arrogant sneer on her lips.

"Emily…" The sound of Quinn's voice forming the syllables of her name is enough to pull the brunette's gaze from Ali's unsettling one, but the other woman's presence feels like a roadblock of sorts. "Emily I just wanted to apologize for my behaviour today." All she can see is Ali's fingertips gently stroking cover Quinn's knuckles.

_Play it cool, Emily._ "Hm? Oh, it was nothing." Emily can tell that Quinn is not about to leave without knowing that she's been forgiven. She admires the blonde's tenacity. Ali seems to find it aggravating and she places her other hand at Quinn's hip. _Mine._

"Emily, come on. I know you're upset with me. I truly am sorry." Emily catches herself before she can grin at her hazel-eyed crush like a lovesick little boy. "Seriously, I was just upset over what Ali told me about Hanna. I didn't know she'd moved on so quickly."

Emily feels this impulse to thank Quinn for the apology so that things can go back to normal. But they can't. Not after Quinn had snapped at her like that in her workplace. It had been embarrassing. The impulse seems to push its way into her mind at every opportunity. She suppresses it effectively by saying, "Well that won't be a problem since you've moved on now too. Congratulations by the way."

Ali steps in at this point, clearly no longer amused by her girlfriend apologizing to their disgruntled server. "Thanks Emily." She turns away from the brunette then, as if shutting her out of the conversation. "Baby let's go. I don't know how much more waiting I can put up with." She smirks then and Emily rolls her eyes as Quinn gazes between the two of them, gaze settling on Ali after a moment's hesitation. Without waiting for the blonde to speak again she waves (not that Ali bothers to notice or wave back) and strolls into the building proper. The last thing she sees is one of Ali's pretty hands tangling itself through Quinn's short golden mane as the pair French on the steps of Emily' building. Oh she is _so _done with this shit for tonight. How rude.

* * *

"So that actually happened?" Sam asks when she finishes telling him the story an hour and a bit later. She nods morosely.

"Sammy would you please tell me, is this going to be my horrible event of the summer? The woman I've become highly infatuated with over the course of three years is going to steadily become more and more serious in her relationship with an arrogant, spoiled, gorgeous living doll as I sulk in the corner and become the target of their rudeness week in and week out?"

"First of all Emi, that's not a horrible event in your life. That's a possible scenario for some lesbian television drama. Secondly, you don't even know if she and that Ali woman are going to last long enough for that to happen." Sam stifles a yawn as he pulls their fridge open. "Want a Coke?" Emily nods as she stretches her legs out, revelling in the glorious feeling of muscles unclenching. He hands her one after wiping the top clear and sits beside her. They take small sips as they stare blankly at the television. "You want to talk?"

"I just don't get it. I mean, after Maya I thought I'd never be interested in anybody that way. And then there was Paige…"

"And then Paige came in and swept you off your feet… except she wasn't into you like that." Sam says consolingly as Emily frowns at the memory.

"I'd met Quinn already back then… but she was with Hanna. And they seemed so happy that I thought maybe I just wanted what they had." Emily pauses as the fizzing liquid snaps down her throat. "I was wrong there. I should've said something that night when she walked me home… fuck. I fucked this up Sammy." He shakes his head at her and allows her to snuggle in under his arm.

"You couldn't have known that she'd want Ali or that they'd get along so great." Sam shrugs. "For all you know, Ali's just a rebound for Quinn... Just let things be for now. Don't worry Emi. If you worry it'll make you ugly."

"Rude!"

* * *

**A/N: Just a short little blargh written to get a little insight (and I really mean a little) into Emily's feelings while everything is being puppeteered from upstairs**. **Not too happy with it, but not every chapter can be pressed out of gold-leaf. Thank you Rushii15 for displaying such surprise over Ali's appearance. Yes, I know she's a grade A BITCH… but I can't help but love how Sasha Pieterse plays her role. Next chapter is also a character-driven one, any guesses as to who it is? I know we don't play this game anymore but if anybody can give me the name and band of the song used here I'll let you decide who next chapter should focus on. FIRST PERSON WINS. Thank you all for reading and following! Love you to bits. **

**~ Kay ~**


	6. Something Wrong is Never Right

**Disclaimer: I'm hoping that the fairies will grant my wish and bestow ownership of Glee and Pretty Little Liars upon me soon. Marlene and R.I.B. are keeping a hold on those shows until the fairies do their job.**

**Warnings: Probably the last time I'm warning y'all of anything, but… SEX/SEXUAL DISCUSSIONS/SWEARING/POP CULTURE-BASHING &/OR REFERENCES. All of that is in here Sex won't be **_**extremely**_** graphic because a) I'm not technically supposed to write it as such and b) one of my best friends is currently bunking in my room and seems to have made it her mission to distract me from finishing anything properly, especially fanfiction. So with that all in mind… go play, go play.**

* * *

**Quinn's Flat – Friday Evening**

It's late. Way too late for Quinn –Kurt says she should be sleeping earlier in general so maybe it isn't that late – but she's still awake because Ali's tongue is possibly the most impressive muscle on the planet. But like, really. All she's been saying for the past half hour has been "_Fuck, Ali more… God, yes" _and a nagging thought in the back of her mind taunts her for being less-than-eloquent. She's a writer for fuck's sake, isn't that her job? Quinn wants to tell the little voice to shut the fuck up because that orgasm was almost painful and now it's her turn to give. The shorter blonde is just as good as she was during their college years, if not _better,_ and she's much more generous now than she was then. Quinn's surprised that Ali had taken initiative, but she thanks whoever's listening all the same. She slips off her bed and kneels at the edge of the mattress, tasting herself on Ali's lips as they switch places.

Eyes skimming over Ali's body greedily, Quinn brings her lips to one pink nipple, taking it between her teeth. The DiLaurentis woman had always liked a little pain; that's something that hasn't changed in years. That… and her propensity to be highly vocal. The second Quinn's fingers meet with the hot pulse of Ali's sex the blue-eyed woman releases a moan that would have made most porn stars blush with shame. It's gratifying to say the least and Quinn is pleased with her girlfriend's enthusiasm. It's comforting she thinks, as her fingers curve upwards and earn a gasp, to think that she's having sex with _her girlfriend_ and not just a girl friend as it had been with Brittany. Despite the other blonde's earlier promise that she intended to wear Quinn out completely tonight, the accidental (really, she hadn't meant it) tap of Quinn's fingernail to the bud of Ali's clit brings the slightly shorter woman to a rolling climax (surprising, she'd never finished that quickly a few years ago). As Ali cries out her release the rest of Quinn's flat is suddenly resounding with new noise. Loud knocks on the door. Quinn hastily scrambles off her knees and tries her damnedest to find some sort of clothing, coming up with the see-through robe that Ali had teased her with earlier. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. _Again in the back of her mind, Quinn wants to laugh at how versatile an expletive fuck can be sometimes… until she realizes that she has a possibly angry neighbour at her door and she's in no way dressed to look the least bit serious. Or dressed at all.

"Quinn? Quinn? Okay really I know you're in there," a husky voice calls out through the door. Quinn immediately relaxes, dropping the fabric. Spencer won't mind if she hides behind the door during the conversation. She slowly does just that, opening the door only slightly so that she knows Spencer can see her face. Her flushed, sweaty, quite possibly red-from-heat-and-exertion face.

"Spencer! Oh my god I'm so sorry… Did we distract you from anything important?" Quinn wants to hide her face in her arms and die. Of all the people who could have possibly been disturbed by her and Ali, she was somewhat glad that it was Spencer. She and the young lawyer were two of the youngest tenants in the building and had formed a good friendship since moving in two weeks apart from each other. Quinn had flirted shamelessly with Spencer only to be mortified to learn that the girl in the next flat over, while flattered and admittedly appreciative of Quinn's form, was just getting over a bad breakup and did not welcome the blonde's advances. That had been almost three years ago and now Spencer looked out for Quinn and vice versa. This camaraderie came in handy on nights when the blonde brought home a particularly appreciative (loud) woman. In turn Quinn was always on hand to act as a second assistant when Spencer was flooded with documents for whichever case she was working on. And to attempt to cajole Spencer into going on a date with the hot paralegal that was constantly getting her her daily coffee order. An impress feat of memory, if anything.

"No, no you didn't. I was just sorting some papers from my last case." Quinn smirked at that, thinking that she'd make this embarrassment up to the tall brunette when she took on a new case.

"Okay, good… I'm really sorry either way, Spence. I'll make it up to you come your next case, promise."

"We'll try to keep it down." Ali's words thrum through Quinn's ear as she stands in the full light of the door, allowing a hand to drop to Quinn's hidden hip. _She _was able to find a robe that wasn't made of see-through-lace, it would seem.

"Yeah... that would probably be wise. Oh and Q, I just wanted to give you a heads-up that the Ackards from upstairs are starting to lose a few feathers over your behaviour over the past few months. They think you're losing yourself to the evils of hedonism," Spencer says, the last words coming out the side of her mouth as they usually do when she jokes. Quinn laughs and assures her friend that come tomorrow morning (praise sweet baby Jesus for Saturdays) she'll go to the Ackards and introduce Ali properly. They've not got any problem with her sexuality, only the fact that she was sleeping around. Made sense since the Ackards had known "Little Quinnie Fabray" since before her family had labeled her their "biggest disgrace" and then taken it back once her book had risen to fame. Spencer nods her approval of this idea before her eyes light up again. "Oh and Kurt texted me to tell you that he's coming over in ten. He needs to have that article that you edited for him. I said you'd meet him in the lobby."

Quinn's eyes flash wide like a stunned deer and she dashes away from the door; Ali is almost knocked over in her girlfriend's mad rush for clothes and Spencer's eyes fly wide open at the sight of Quinn's exposed _everything. _Assorted expletives can be heard whizzing through the air as clothes of all colours and styles do the same. Ali's eyes are soft with fondness for a moment before they turn towards Spencer and narrow coldly. Icicles. Spencer stares back, instantly relieved of her minor naked-Quinn-induced stupor. The two women say nothing, having the decency to wait until Quinn is practically flying down the stairwell with a sheaf of papers in one hand and a jewelled usb stick in the other.

"Why the blizzard treatment, Alison?" Spencer asks, voice even.

"Don't check out _my_ girlfriend ever again, Hastings."

"Okay firstly I wasn't. Secondly, instead of annoying me why don't you go find some innocent little lamb to order around, DiLaurentis."

"And who's to say I haven't?"

* * *

"You're blushing," Ali says in whisper-tones. Quinn shakes her head as if to clear all thought from her mind before looking down on her girlfriend's face. The Saturday morning sunshine makes her even more dazzling, but something about the expression she wears is throwing Quinn for a loop. She still wears the same goddamn smirk that seems determined to push Quinn as close to disliking Ali as possible. It's infuriating. "Quinn?"

"Hmm? What? Oh… he-he, must be because of you, gorgeous," Quinn jokes, dropping a kiss to Ali's nose before sliding off of the bed. The light is blinding but necessary in her search for Ackard-approved clothing.

"Where's the fire?" Ali sounds more annoyed than amused despite the joking words. Quinn shrugs into a casual sea blue chiffon dress before turning towards the other woman. She cringes at the displeasure in Ali's eyes.

"I was planning on taking you to meet the Ackards. You remember them right? Their son Sean lived across the hall from me throughout first and second year. Football scholarship."

"Oh, the cute Christian boy?" Ali's eyebrows knit together as she recalls the face that belongs to the name. "The one who wouldn't have sex with his girlfriend and got into an argument about it at Noel's kegger?" Quinn nods. "I remember her. After they fought I took her up to Noel's room… needless to say Sean was less than impressed to find her there with my hand down her pants." Ali smiles at the memory as Quinn looks back at her in shock. Sean had been livid that night, so much so that Noel had had to lock him in the guest room for the rest of the kegger. That would explain why he'd avoided hanging around her after she and Ali started their "relationship". Quinn holds her tongue, not wanting to get into a row with Ali right before introducing her to her godparents. Ali wraps her arms around the taller blonde as she rummages through her closets for something Ali can wear that won't offend anybody. Certainly not the dress she'd worn to the club last night. "That one," Ali says into Quinn's neck.

Quinn stops for a moment to appraise the dress that Ali's pointed out. It's a beautiful misty green that would look good against Ali's skin. Nice cut too. Quinn hands the dress over to Ali who slips into it and turns, expecting Quinn to deal with the zipper. She doesn't ask. Quinn sighs and moves to stand behind Ali, sliding the zipper up slowly. "Beautiful," she says when it's closed. And Ali is. She's yet to lose that damn smirk though.

"I know," Ali says. She doesn't pay Quinn a compliment in words. The small, almost shy smile on her lips is enough (but is it really?). Before Quinn can decide she feels soft lips press against hers quickly, virginally chaste compared to other kisses the pair have exchanged in recent memory. _Better this than that damn smirk.__  
_

* * *

"Quinnie, may I speak with you for a moment?" Sean asks in a quiet voice. They've been up at the Ackards' flat for a good twenty minutes; the small talk and chitchat is clearly beginning to grate on Ali, though only Quinn seems to notice the tense of her jaw. She's surprised that Sean is the one who asks for a private audience, almost sure that Ali would become fed up and beg to be allowed leave. Quinn follows Sean through to the balcony which is clearly more well-appointed than her own smaller space.

"What's wrong, Sean? Are you alright?" Her god-brother has a line of concern etched into his forehead.

"No. Quinnie why are you dating that DiLaurentis woman? I thought you broke up after graduation?" Quinn shakes her head.

"We broke up before that… as to why I'm dating her now, it's because I like her."

"You've been acting out ever since you broke up with Hanna. I don't see why you'd have to date somebody else when Hanna will probably end up drunk at your place asking for you back sooner or later." Again she shakes her head. That had been before. She and Hanna had been on and off more times than Janet Jackson's nip-slip on Youtube, but this was different. Hanna had broken up with her for real.

"Hanna and I are done for good, Sean. She's been dating Aria Montgomery for almost three months now and they seem happy." Quinn had seen it for herself at Hanna's last fashion show. The pair seemed well-matched and Aria was very sweet to her despite her knowledge of Hanna and Quinn's past. "Besides, why don't you like Ali? She's sorry about what happened with Ashley all those years ago."

Sean frowns at the mention of his ex and scowls. "She isn't. Not that that matters. Quinnie I just don't want to see you get hurt." She laughs; Ali's attitude is rubbing off on her, it would seem. "Really Quinnie, I just can't understand. She's going to wind up hurting you… couldn't you just focus on yourself for a while? You don't need a girlfriend, you need to figure yourself out."

"Sean, do you remember the last time you said things like that to me? You helped me figure myself out Sean, remember? I was lost and you helped me but this isn't like that."

"Why does it have to be her then? Why couldn't it be… oh, I don't know, anybody? Spencer? Or your pretty server friend, Emily was it? Didn't you like her before?" Sean notices the way that Quinn's shoulders shoot up at the mention of the dark-haired woman from the restaurant. He takes a ginger step forwards. "Did something happen, Quinn? I'm sorry…"

The instant he apologizes Quinn can feel her body begin to relax. He looks like a little boy who'd done nothing wrong but received the end of his father's belt anyway. The poor man couldn't have possibly known that Emily was a soft spot. She pats his shoulder gently to show her god-brother that she isn't angry. "Emily and I… aren't quite friends anymore." (Especially since the brunette outright refused to speak to Ali or Quinn if it had nothing to do with their meal or their drinks). "Besides… I think that I'm… I mean, I've fallen in love with Ali." The words don't feel quite right as she says them.

"You're in love with me?" Quinn turns towards the green-clad blonde standing at the balcony door and grins, hoping to convey lovesick even though she feels more than slightly uncomfortable. Sean and Ali watch her as she nods and moves forward to take all of Ali's doll-like beauty in her arms. She doesn't stop nodding as Ali shoots a triumphant sneer at the young man behind Quinn.

_The words don't feel quite right._

* * *

**A/N: I kind of liked this… maybe more than I should have? I dunno. Follow LazyWriterGirl on Twitter (that's me ;D) for updates, chatting, and possibly upcoming spoiler hints? I dunno ;) I HOPE YOU HAD FUN... Oh, and shout-out to Breyanaxo and Rushii15, you're my faves :)**

**~ Kay ~**


	7. The Upfront, Honest Attorney at Law

**Disclaimer: So maybe some of you wish I owned Glee and/or PLL? No? Well I sure wish I did.**

**La Vie, Wednesday – Lunch**

Emily hasn't spoken to Quinn in weeks upon weeks and she's starting to feel worse and worse with every single time she passes by a table to see Alison's fingers tracing a pattern on Quinn's hand or thigh or face. Thank God the blue-eyed bitch doesn't show up for Quinn's Wednesday lunches with Kurt, or that would just be too much to deal with. There _is _a third person today, however, and Emily is glad to see Spencer Hastings sitting between her two friends as though she were the referee in a boxing match. The brunette looks good in her blazer, Emily notes. Very good.

"Good afternoon everybody, is there anything that I can get you?" Emily smiles a small smile for Quinn but it widens as she turns her gaze towards Kurt and finally Spencer. She's always liked the young attorney and the woman has never been unkind.

"Hello Emily, you're looking as lovely as always," Kurt says. She laughs. He's always got something sweet to say.

"Why thank you Kurt. I'm loving the shirt and tie. Very bold," she says, gesturing at the pink shirt and minty-fresh tie the fabulous designer is sporting. It's a risky colour combination but he makes it work flawlessly. "Anything to drink, ladies, Kurt?"

"No need to single me out honey, 'ladies' is fine," he winks at all three women before saying, "I'll just have carbonated water, Emily, and the usual for lunch." She nods and turns towards Quinn and Spencer (mostly Spencer as she still isn't speaking to Quinn).

"I'm thinking the same thing, Emily," Spencer says with a small grin and Emily pauses to think of how pretty Spencer looks in the lighting. She can think that Spencer looks pretty today, can't she?

"I suppose I'd best not break from our pattern today, huh?" Quinn jokes lightly, winning an almost hesitant laugh from the server. Emily's over her crush on Quinn by now – she tells herself this despite Sam saying to "Never give up on your feelings" – but the loss of their friendship is still a sore spot.

"Alright, I'll be sure to tell Ronnie," she says and she excuses herself. Sam passes her by on her way to the kitchens and shoots a boyish grin at the table where Quinn is sitting. "Oh shush Sammy."

"What? I was just going to tell you that it looks like somebody's got a crush on you." Sam's voice is light and teasing and yet something about the statement makes her angry just a bit. She runs the trio's order by Ronnie-the-chef before returning to Sam's side.

"Very funny. Quinn has a girlfriend, Sammy." She's surprised to see that Sam is shaking his head.

"Not Quinn. Spencer. She keeps on glancing at you when you're not paying attention and smiling. I'm pretty sure she likes you, Emi." He winks and whispers a "Go get her, she's cute," before whirling away to tend to his section which is much more full than hers (makes sense at this hour, most of her regulars are supper-time diners). Emily retrieves three glasses of carbonated water from the kitchen and turns back towards the table only to find that Spencer is indeed stealing little glances at her from time to time. _Is there something on my face?_ She wonders if maybe the brunette has anything else she wants and as she makes her way to the table she's prepared to ask, only to be interrupted as a bolt of blonde hair streaks past her.

"Emily, would you be a dear and fetch a glass of carbonated water for me as well? And whatever my Quinn is eating, that would be great." Any of the curiosity she'd gathered from Spencer's behaviour is out the window the second Emily's eyes fall upon Alison's smug smirk.

_Alison DiLaurentis is a fucking bitch._ Emily wants to scoff but she can't because she's never been rude to a patron before and she'll be damned if she ruins that reputation for a snooty bitch like the blonde who's already demanded another place setting from one of Emily's co-workers. "Of course Miss DiLaurentis," Emily says, remembering how the blonde had bitched at her for calling her by her first name (that was the lowlight of last week and it was terrible) "Right away." Alison seems to sneer at her before turning to Quinn and making a spectacle of herself, lavishing the other woman with kisses and touches.

"Ugh. How rude," Sam says as they pass each other again. "She has no respect for the rest of us, does she?" Emily shrugs as she grabs another glass and informs Ronnie of the additional order.

"What can we do? She's a customer, Sammy."

"So? She sucks. She's a bitch and I don't like her." He frowns at this and Emily wants to tickle him under his chin like she used to when they were younger. It would be weird though, so she doesn't.

"You should be glad that she's not in your section then, huh champ?" Emily drops by the kitchen to relay Alison's order, Sam's chuckle dancing in her head.

"You should have the rest of the day off, Emily. You've been working so hard." Sam's godmother says with a smile. "I'm sure that Samuel won't mind helping Ava cover your section, isn't that right dear boy?" Sam smiles at Emily and nods. She knows he's been pushing for her to stop working so hard and that this was probably all his doing.

Without much more cajoling she's said goodbye and is making her way home, trying to come up with something to do. It isn't much fun being off work without Sam, mostly because she knows that all of their other friends are all busy at their own jobs. With a glance at her phone Emily sees that it's only two in the afternoon and she decides to take the long way through Central Park. It's not like somebody's waiting for her at home, anyway. She's so lost in thought over her own plans that she doesn't quite register the sound of footsteps in her direction.

"Off work already, Emily?" She's surprised by the voice and how kind it sounds. Alison is standing oddly close to her and it's just enough to make the tall Filipina highly uncomfortable. Quinn is nowhere to be seen. As if she can read minds the shorter blonde grins and says, "She's getting us ice cream, if you were looking for Quinn." _Us?_ Oh, Spencer's standing a little ways off, watching Alison with a look that says 'God, I don't like this bitch'. It makes Emily want to laugh.

"Yes, actually. I was just heading home." Alison nods even as the disinterest creeps into her face. Emily is _thiiiiis_ close to punching the bitchy grin off her face and she really would if not for Quinn's re-entrance onto the scene. The other woman has two cones in one hand and is passing another to Spencer. The smile that rises and falls as she turns to see Emily is cute, not that Emily thinks it's _endearing_ or anything.

"Hi Emily, were you just heading home?" Quinn sounds shy and even though she doesn't want to, Emily thinks back to that night almost four months ago when she borrowed the blonde woman's jacket. She nods to clear her head and smiles slightly at Quinn.

"Yeah. I guess Harrison thinks I've been working myself ragged. He told me to come in later tomorrow, so I've got a good bit of downtime to face."

"Would you like to join us? We were just going to go about the city, maybe do a little shopping and see a movie." Quinn's smile is genuine. Her girlfriend's is not. "I'm sure Spencer would appreciate the company." At this Emily flushes though she doesn't quite know why. Spencer is mostly calm, though she does flash a look of alarm at Quinn.

"What? I never said that, Q. Not that I don't want you to join us, Emily," she says quickly. Emily giggles at the brunette's flustered expression.

"It's ok, I get it," she says gently, directing her voice to Spencer. "You don't want to be the third wheel Spencer, am I right?" Spencer nods and glares pointedly at Alison. The tension in their gazes is palpable. "If it's alright with you I'd be happy to tag along. There's not much else for me to do at home."

"Okay, sounds great! We'll have fun, promise. Do you want to drop your work stuff off at home first, Em?" Emily smiles at the nickname – that means they're okay again, yes? – and she nods. She's been doing a lot of that today.

"I think I will. Where should I meet you guys?" They settle on meeting outside of Quinn's building – Alison apparently forgot something – and they're all off, Emily and Spencer slightly further ahead. Emily because her bag is really heavy with the food Ronnie sent along with her and Spencer because… well, she doesn't really know why Spencer is matching her pace. The silent woman shares a small smile with her and it seems full of gratitude. She smiles back, aware of how awkward it must have felt for Spencer when she thought that she'd be spending the evening with Alison and Quinn on her own. "So… what exactly did they have planned for the rest of the day?"

If Emily thought that shopping with her mother or working at La Vie was difficult, she had no idea how much more so it would be to spend literally seven hours straight with her once-crush, once-crush's-bitch-girlfriend, and once-crush's-semi-laconic-friend. She wipes at her forehead, surprised when her hand comes back dry. Surely she's worked up a sweat carrying all these bags? _"Thanks so much Emily, you're a doll." _Alison had seemed thrilled when Emily had offered to hold her bags while she and Quinn entered their _nth_ boutique in search of that perfect LBD. Alison doesn't have one (not one that she could wear without looking like an escort, Emily guesses) and she's insistent on finding one before the Ackards threw Quinn her big birthday party next weekend (a party to which Emily now finds herself invited). Anyway, the bitch had left the store without Emily noticing and she had only become aware of this when Spencer texted her asking her where she was.

"Here, let me help you." Spencer doesn't even ask, just grabs a few bags from each of Emily's hands as they attempt to find a seat at one of the benches placed for shoppers. There's one conveniently facing the entrance to the Jacob store that Alison has pulled Quinn into and the two brunettes sit in silence. Emily is just about to say thank you when out of the blue Spencer chimes in saying, "You're very pretty."

Emily blinks once, then twice. "I… wow, thank you. I think you're very pretty as well, Spencer." She figures that she'd best be polite about it and tell the truth. The paler brunette laughs.

"Thank you. I'm sorry, that must've seemed odd." Spencer grins. "I'm just not that good at flirting. Out of practice, I suppose." Emily must look absolutely ridiculous with her mouth gaping wide and her jaw touching the floor. What just happened, exactly?

"You're flirting with me? Why?"

"Why else would a person flirt with another?" Spencer winks roguishly and Emily briefly wonders if this is difficult for the light-skinned woman. She did mention that she was out of practice (not that she's doing a bad job). "Oh… I'm sorry, Emily. Are you seeing somebody? Have I made you uncomfortable? Have I overstepped?" Emily doesn't respond. She's too busy trying to process exactly what's going on and the rapid flicker of hopefulness, sadness, and apology that's going through Spencer's eyes isn't helping.

She finally does manage to speak as Quinn waves at them from the store's doorway, gesturing towards the food court. Time for a break. "No, no, no." Spencer raises a finely shaped eyebrow in questioning and Emily would slap herself upside the forehead if it weren't for all of Alison's bags anchoring her hands downwards. "Oops. Hold on a moment." She waits for the two blondes up ahead to gesture to a table and once they've settled all the bags around it Emily turns her face to Spencer. "I meant, no I'm not seeing anyone, no I'm not uncomfortable, and no, you've not overstepped."

"That's good then," Spencer says with a happy smile. Emily can't shake the feelings of curiosity that are building up in her stomach.

"I just have one question." Spencer nods towards her to show that she's ready to answer whatever Emily wants to know. "Why me? I mean, you've never been anything but kind to me and I am glad that we're friends even though I serve you at a restaurant, but…"

"You're wondering why I'd so openly flirt with you, right?" Spencer smiles kindly.

"Exactly. I would have thought that your tastes were more aligned with… I don't know, women like Quinn?"

"If that's what you're worried about, you're more alike to Quinn than you realize, not that I've ever been interested in her that way. As for why I like you, I just do. I can't explain it just yet." Spencer smiles and waves to Quinn as the blonde at the other end of the food court holds up a tray bearing food for the two seated women. Emily must still look confused since she notices how Spencer seems to be thinking of something to say. "I'm not asking you to like me back, Emily. But I do want you to know that I'm sincere. I'll do whatever I can to try to get you to feel something for me." Emily smiles shyly and nods. It seems that things with Spencer have gone from 0 to 60 in less than 3.5 seconds, but that's fine since she's not really been this intrigued by a woman since Paige.

"I look forward to it," she says as the two blondes return with their food. She smiles once more and thinks that she really does look forward to it. She's never been courted by somebody quite like Spencer Hastings, attorney at law.

**A/N: I apologize one thousand times over for not updating! Sadly I find that trying to write after work results in a shoddy job, and we can't have that. Please bear with me. As you can see I'm writing in a bit of Spemily (with a twist later on my loves) due to the advice of my fave (you know who you are). Thanks to you lovelies who actually review, though I also love you who simply favourite, follow, or just enjoy Go Get Her, Tiger in silence. You mean the world to this writer.**

**~ Kay ~**


	8. Break Up With the Bitch

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Pretty Little Liars or else this kind of stuff is what would happen on your television screens week in and week out.**

* * *

**La Vie, Wednesday – Lunch**

Quinn is only mildly insulted when her best friend from the diaper days, Santana Lopez – yes, _the_ Santana Lopez of FHM's Sexiest Woman of the Year fame – decides to make a game out of insulting her girlfriend. If she's being entirely honest, Ali and her damn smirk have been wearing down her patience for quite some time. Sometimes she wonders if their relationship is just being dragged out. They've been dating for about half a year now and it surprises Quinn almost as much as it does Kurt. In his words "It's been eight months since an angel broke your heart and six since you aligned yourself with the Devil." Quinn scoffs at the thought because sure, Ali is no angel (unless we're talking about one of the Victoria's Secret variety) and she's not nearly as kind as Hanna was but she's nowhere near wicked enough to deserve being called "the Devil", right? She has her nice moments, Quinn thinks with a small smile. True they're outweighed by how mean she generally is but—

"Stop thinking about it so much and just break up with the bitch already." Like the voice of reason we all try our damnedest to run away from, Santana's dulcet tones invade Quinn's mind until there's no way anything else can be heard. Quinn can feel herself wanting to agree with the Latina and just "git 'er done" but still... she feels bad. Her relationship with Ali may not be exemplary, but it's still good as far as fast-paced, seemingly sex-based NYC relationships are concerned. Quinn shakes her head, grateful that Santana isn't being all Lima Heights about this.

"Break up with her why? She's not done anything truly reprehensible, you know… it isn't like she's cheated on me, or hit me, or… anything like that." Quinn sounds like she's making excuses for her girlfriend and she knows that Santana is seconds away from ripping her a new one for her bullshit. She decides to try to curb the possibility of that happening. Had they been at home it wouldn't have mattered but here? Quinn sighs, changing directions and going for the I'm-a-good-person-I-promise play. "I don't want to be made to look like the bad guy. Not again."

"What the hell do you mean? God, compared to your girlfriend you're the poster child for the Never-Gonna-Be-The-Bad-Guy Club."

"If I break up with her for no reason it'll definitely make me look rude and mean and… terrible. Like when I broke up with your friend Rachel after she almost proposed at that after-party for her Broadway debut. I'm not prepared to deal with that much backlash again." Santana takes a deep breath and Quinn prepares herself for what she's sure is going to be an even worse 'Diabla Rant' than that one time when they were in middle school and she'd kissed Santana's girlfriend in front of the whole playground.

"Quinn Fabray I swear to God I'm going to murder you if you don't get your shit together right now. You've got to be fucking kidding me if you think you can get away with saying you're 'not prepared to deal' with the shit that outsiders say just so you can continue pretending that you're in love with Satan's daughter." Quinn opens her mouth to object because in all seriousness Ali really doesn't deserve that, she thinks, (and besides wasn't that what people called Santana in high school?) but Santana is already opening her mouth again, mowing Quinn's words down like grass. "She's treated you like a sex toy on more than one occasion, don't deny it, she refuses to let you out of her sight unless you're with your family or the Ackards, is obscenely rude in public, practically manhandles you into going where and doing what she wants when you're together, and she clearly isn't giving you the respect and _love_ that you deserve. For fuck's sake Q, enough is e-fucking-nough. Break up with that bitch if you know what's good for you."

"And what if I say no? You aren't the boss of me Santana, as much as you'd like to think so. I know Ali isn't perfect, and I'm not saying that some things couldn't stand to change in our relationship, but I'm happy with her, okay?" Quinn feels cold, like she knows she's lying but that's weird because this is the truth, right? She's in love with Alison DiLaurentis. She _is_ in love with _Alison DiLaurentis_. And Ali loves her even if she never says it in quite so many words.

Santana's eyes gloss over and she looks odd, almost different, but Quinn can't really place it because she's angry and more than a little confused with her own feelings. The Latina's features soften out again shortly anyway, so it was probably just weird lighting, but the look that Santana gives her is curious and still slightly glossy-eyed. Like now she knows something that Quinn is unaware of. "You really think you're happy? Cuz you're definitely not, Q. Have you seen Spencer and Emily? That's happy, or at least that's pretty fucking close to it. You and Psycho-Possessive-Cape May Bronzed Barbie? Not so much." There it is, Emily's name like a knife twisting itself into her gut. Quinn should really be happy that two of her friends have found a month's happiness with each other and are going along at a slow, steady pace. She should be glad that she and Ali don't have to brave the pap filled streets alone, and often the sight of the four women together is less interesting to the dozens of photographers when they recognize Spencer Hastings of Hastings, Hastings & Wright Law Offices. She should be glad that Spencer often has Emily over, so they can walk back to their flats from La Vie after Saturday dinners together. She should be glad that (thanks to Spencer) her friendship with Emily is well on its way to being on the mend. Something is holding her back from being glad, however, and Quinn can't place what it is but whenever she looks at "Spemily" she can't help but frown before slapping on her brightest, most adoring smile. "You're jealous of Spencer." Seeing as Santana has never shown any outward signs of perceptiveness, the comment takes Quinn aback. Sure, Emily is really, really pretty and hot, and so kind, and clearly sweet and smart but there's no way Quinn likes her like that. She's over that, right?

"Shh! Emily could walk by at any moment and hear you saying stupid things like that, shh!" Santana shakes her head and the glossy look is gone from her eyes now. "Anyway, that's not possible San because, as I've said to you before, I am in love with Alison DiLaurentis."

"Oh thank you baby, that's so sweet." Quinn cringes, remembering that she'd made plans with Ali for later tonight, before Santana had surprised her with her presence. Still, she rises and turns toward the slightly shorter blonde before stepping forward to plant a soft kiss on carefully glossed lips, annoyance flaring at the back of her head when Ali pulls her in to deepen the contact.

"Ahem, excuse me but I'd like to talk to my best friend without watching you try to suck out her tonsils, DiLaurentis."

"Santana!" Quinn pulls away from her girlfriend with a look of embarrassment. Only Santana would say something like that. For her part Ali looks at the Latina like she's some sort of insect and shrugs. This won't end well for anybody.

"Sorry for causing offense HoPez, couldn't see you there."

"Ali!" Quinn sighs in frustration and presses the heel of her palm to her forehead, completely unimpressed with the behaviour being displayed by two of the most important people in her life at the moment. "Just, stop. Honestly can't we get through one lunch date without you two ripping into one another?" The looks in their eyes suggest that no, they can't do that, but Quinn ignores it and practically pulls Ali into the seat beside her, hazel-green eyes flashing dangerously at Santana to behave herself. Irritation lashes out at her when Ali rests a hand on her thigh under the table, and she moves away slightly, a subtle shift that leaves Ali groping the seat cushion.

"So Alison, how's work been? What do you even do, by the way, since every time I see you all that you seem to be doing involves yanking Quinn along on a diamond studded leash while she struggles with your boutique shopping bags." Santana's voice may seem friendly to an outside observer, but her dark eyes are practically screaming for a certain blonde's blood. Quinn doesn't understand why but her best friend seriously has a burning hate fire for Alison DiLaurentis. Said blonde woman's eyes narrow and Quinn actually freezes up because a showdown between these two is not going to look good with Harrison and Carmela, La Vie's managers. She really doesn't want to be told that she can't come back here.

"Ali's actually a reporter with the _Times_, but she mostly covers international intrigues of the criminal variety… she's busy a lot but can work from home just like me so we still spend a lot of time together. And San, I carry her things because she asks me to, not because I have to," Quinn says quickly, the words tumbling out of her mouth faster than dysentery. The Latina's harsh bark of laughter is startling. Quinn looks briefly to Ali to find that the blonde is smiling sweetly at her with her dagger eyes aimed at Santana's throat.

"Uh-huh. You carry her things because she asks… bullshit Q, you and I both know that she treats you like shit and you're only putting up with her because you're pussy-whipped and she won't let you grow a pair." Quinn grunts angrily and kicks Santana under the table, not that she notices.

"I'm sorry you think that Santana but the fact of the matter is that Quinn's _my_ girlfriend, not yours. I don't know what you're trying to do here but I don't like it, and if I were you I would stop before things turned… unpleasant." Alison looks shark-like at the moment and Quinn is sure that there will be blood all over the tablecloth in seconds.

"I'm trying to save my girl Quinn here from fucking her life up any more by staying with you for a second longer. You're a bitch Alison, and there's no way in hell you deserve _my_ best friend." Alison's jaw clenches and no amount of Quinn whispering in her ear (it usually calms her down) can get her to relax. "What? Just realized it for yourself? Face it Ali, Quinn's gonna dump your ass and move on to somebody a hell of a lot better, and ultimately you'll be alone because you are a bitch. A fucking terrible, manipulative liar and a bitch. And that's coming from me." Santana has always been protective of Quinn, but the blonde has never heard her be so blunt with anybody before (well, she has, but in those cases Quinn herself had probably said and done even worse).

"Oh, I get it," Ali says after glaring at Santana for a solid minute. "Look, Santana, I know it must be hard for you to see Quinn spend time with somebody who isn't you, but you have to face the facts. I'm dating Quinn, she loves me, and there's no way in hell she's going to break up with me for somebody else. And by the looks of it, you want her to break up with me for somebody like you, You don't stand a chance HoPez, so ditch this pipe dream fast. You may be the world's sexiest woman according to that trashy publication, but it will take a lot more than sex to win Quinn from me." Quinn is barely listening to their escalating argument, but she can't help but frown at the damned confident – more like arrogant – tone in Ali's voice.

"Oh hell, you stupid bitch that's it. I'm about to go _all _Lima Heights on your white girl ass. Step the fuck outside and get at me." Quinn rises and blocks them out, not waiting to hear her girlfriend's response. When Ali rises and begins to actually follow Santana out the door Quinn retreats further into the restaurant, as far away from the windows as she can get. Seriously, she can't fucking deal with their shit right now. Her editor has sent her another deadline and she's confused about her relationship with Ali and why does she want to kick Spencer in the shins whenever she sees the brunette smiling at Emily like a lovesick fool and _god_ slow down Fabray, she thinks.

"Quinn? Is everything alright Quinn?" The god that's writing her life story must hate the ever-loving crap out of her today because there's Emily and she can't deal with these feels right now, Quinn thinks. She nods swiftly and steps away from the kitchen doors, briefly wondering how she'd managed to get there without tripping over anything. "Oh don't give me that, what's wrong Quinn?" Emily's hand is warm from the plates she'd had resting on the tray in her grasp mere seconds ago. She gently smoothens down Quinn's unruly shoulder-length locks and gives the blonde a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Want to talk? I'm going for my break now. Spencer will be a while coming."

"Okay, I'd like that." Quinn shakes her head. She'd really wanted to say that to Emily, but knew it wasn't the best route. Yet here she was. What was happening to her?

"Okay. Want to get out of here for a little bit? Get some fresh air? It's not so cold out today. Definitely better than a typical January day." Quinn nods because it's a little stuffy in here – Emily's warmth is too close, maybe – and also because she wonders what happened to her pair of idiots. As they step outside, Emily spots them first, putting Quinn in the uncomfortable position of having to explain why Santana Lopez and Alison DiLaurentis are having a shouting match and waving their feminine fists around in fury.

"Santana and Ali have… conflicting views. On everything. Which makes them prone to fights like this, I suppose. I've tried to limit how much time I spend with the two of them together, but Santana dropped in by surprise today so there was literally no time to prepare myself, or anybody else." Quinn smiles bitterly. She loves Santana, really she does, so it's difficult to be angry even though the Latina is meddling in her love life. As usual, she thinks.

"Mind if I ask how they got to this point?" Emily asks, gesturing in front of them. The tall brunette has stopped a few feet away from the arguing pair, eyes worriedly taking in the situation. If they come to blows it could be seriously dangerous, Quinn realizes as she takes in the slippery slush at their feet. They'll have to step in before that happens.

"Santana has been trying to convince me to break up with Ali because she thinks I'm not happy. Ali thinks Santana's doing it so that I'll go to her instead. You know what Ali can be like when our relationship comes into question…"

"Would you get together with Santana if you broke up with Ali?" Emily's voice is soft and shy and Quinn can't help but answer even though she really doesn't have to.

"No. We've been best friends since we were children. In middle school I kissed Santana's girlfriend Marley and later on she told me that she was actually more jealous of Marley than me. We started dating but broke up after about a year." Emily nods and Quinn can't help but want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Here she is watching the best friend she's ever going to have swing her fists menacingly close to her girlfriend's jaw while said girlfriend hurls colourful insults and what is she doing? Spilling her guts willingly to the woman she's pretty sure she's starting to like-like for no particular reason despite the fact that it's January and her feet are cold from the slush and soon she's probably going to be single and Emily is dating her friend Spencer.

"Ah. Uh… could I ask another question?" Quinn nods just as Emily had done. "Is Santana right? Are you unhappy with Alison?"

"Yes." Quinn falters as soon as the word slips out of her mouth. She's never voiced such a thought out loud although she's certainly entertained it more and more often. She's not happy with Alison, not anymore at least, but if she's not happy then why is she still doing this to herself? Emily smiles sympathetically and Quinn flushes. She's glad that the brunette doesn't say something corny and contrived like "I understand" because honestly she's pretty sure Emily doesn't understand. From what she's seen, Spencer Hastings is an exemplary girlfriend, attentive, caring and just… all the things that she wishes Ali could be. For some reason that really bothers her.

"Quinn! Quinn seriously what the fuck? Help me!" Ali's voice is grating in her ear now and Quinn, feeling empowered for the first time since she started this godforsaken relationship, makes a decision.

"You know what, Ali, no. Santana's right. You've been terrible to me for the most part, ever since I first said that I loved you." Quinn notices how Santana has stepped away from Ali, leaving the tanned blonde standing alone. The Latina is at her back, a viciously victorious smirk already growing on her face. "I couldn't do anything about it because I was holding out hope that you did love me but you never did, did you? I'm done with this." Alison's shocked face is beautiful to behold. "I'm breaking up with you Alison."

"You bitch! You can't just break up with me like this, Quinn. You need me. You love me," Alison says, taking what Quinn assumes is a threatening step forwards. "Come on, baby. Let's go home. You must be feeling unwell…I'll make you feel better."

"No thanks. Just hand over the key to my flat and leave me alone. Don't try to contact me again Ali, I'm really done with you this time." Alison huffs and digs the key out of her purse. She seems reluctant to hand it back to Quinn and the taller blonde frowns. Quinn is about to yell at the other woman to hand over her property and leave her the fuck alone but Santana beats her to it.

"Hey loca, she said you guys are done. Give my girl her key back and then get the fuck out. Don't make me get at you, because I promise you it won't be fun." Quinn' pretty sure she hears a growl and she laughs as Alison stomps off on her heels, clearly putting the preservation of her face over that of her ruined relationship. The bitch didn't even seem all that fazed. Quinn shakes her head as if to clear it, noting how Santana's looking at her with that curious look again. Before either of them can speak Emily pipes up.

"I've never seen you be so… blunt. But good for you Quinn!" Emily smiles and Quinn thinks it's so funny that Emily would be complimenting her on her breakup, but whatever. The brunette's smile is so nice that it doesn't matter. "Oh, there's Spencer, she's picking me up for lunch." Emily grins once more and waves her goodbyes, stepping carefully over the mushy slush as she picks her way towards Spencer's Highlander. She doesn't turn back for a final wave, something that normally wouldn't upset Quinn but now feels like a kick to the nads. Well, she assumes a kick to the nads would feel like this, but she can't exactly go and test out that theory.

"Yo Q, let's get to your place pronto. I don't know about you but I don't wanna get to yours to find all my shit destroyed."

"I took her key though, San. She can't get in." Quinn's smile fades when she looks at Santana's face. The darker woman doesn't seem to be joking around.

"Four words for you. Third year, Noel's house."

"Oh fuck you're right."

* * *

Luckily everything is exactly as it should be when they step into Quinn's flat, though that doesn't stop Santana from giving the new doorman explicit instructions detailing why "Alison DiLaurentis should never be allowed back here under any circumstances". The mood lightens as the hours tick past, and by around eight they're eating pizza and watching X Factor and it feels a lot like their high school years. Quinn laughs as Santana jokes about her newfound freedom but a thought stops the mirth from reaching her eyes. Why had she been so blunt? It was uncharacteristic of her to make such a rash decision, and then to execute her actions that brashly… odd. Yes, she'd really wanted to end things with Ali but to end them that way was almost like somebody else had told her exactly how to do it and she'd been following orders. "Hey San, did you notice anything weird about me? I mean, when I was telling Alison I was breaking up with her." Santana looks away from the panel of judges long enough to glance pointedly at her.

"You mean aside from the fact that it looked like you'd finally grown a pair? Nothing really." Santana turns back to the screen, grinning when the cameraman pans to Demi Lovato's amused face halfway through a particularly good audition. Quinn mumbles a quiet "Thanks San" even though she knows the other woman isn't even paying attention to her at this point. At least, she thinks she isn't. To her surprise Santana grumbles something about a "fucking sensitive bitch" and flicks the television off. "Look, Q, why does this matter? You're free. You don't have to deal with Ali and her bullshit anymore, okay? Why does it matter how you broke up with her? It's done." When the Latina doesn't speak up after that Quinn knows that what's really being said is "Let's talk about this until you feel better, then we'll never have to mention it again."

"I know that." Quinn pauses, unsure if she can safely share her doubts with Santana. Of course she can, so she goes, "I just don't know why I was so quick to do it. It felt like, I don't know, but it felt like I wasn't fully in control of myself." Santana holds her hands up in mock defense.

"Don't look at me, Princess. I may have an all-powerful Mexican third eye, but I can't exactly control people. You broke up with Ali all by yourself, hun."

"But what if it _wasn't_?" Quinn can't help it. She's had her suspicions for a while but it's really starting to feel like somebody's playing with her. From the look Santana's giving her, the other woman has probably figured it out, and more.

"Well…" Quinn tenses, preparing herself for whatever outlandish-yet-probably-true explanation Santana is going to give. "I guess you're just not feeling like yourself. It was surprising, sure, but you used to be HBIC Quinn, so I don't think it's that odd that you'd still carry those balls around with you somewhere." Quinn frowns. Clearly the Latina is hiding something. Santana shrugs again and kisses Quinn's cheek softly, "Just don't trouble your pretty little head about it. Now shh, I wants to watch Demi Lovato being a fine-ass judge."

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so so so so sorry. Hey, I made it a longer-than-usual chapter as a peace offering. That's cool, right guys? Guys? Well thank you for not giving up on me just yet, and I apologize for the length of time that's passed between my last update and now. Follow me on Twitter (same username: LazyWriterGirl) to yell at me about it, if it will make you feel better. I'm a big girl. I can take it. Also, YAY FOR FABRENTIS BREAKING UP…though honestly I kinda feel like writing them. Hmm…**

**~ Kay**

**P.S., I'm really so much more sorry than words can describe. Don't kill me please! Oh, and I know Ali's exit was abrupt, but I feel like it's fitting since she never really cared about Quinn anyway. Also, check out the poll on my profile to determine who Desire is going to send Quinn's way next ;)**


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